


It's Only Masochism When It Hurts

by ellodoctor



Category: Glee
Genre: Hostage Situation, M/M, Non-con Drug Use, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellodoctor/pseuds/ellodoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stockholm syndrome: The phenomenon in which victims display compassion for and even loyalty to their captors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DannySeguel made some fabulous posters for this fic: 
> 
> http://dannyseguel.tumblr.com/post/30943244595/its-only-masochism-when-it-hurts-by-ellodoctor
> 
> http://dannyseguel.tumblr.com/post/30944165269/its-only-masochism-when-it-hurts-by-ellodoctor

The set is deadly quiet, he can only hear the sound of his own heart beating loudly in his chest, his fists tightening in anticipation. From where he's sitting in the centre he can vaguely make out the shapes of the camera crew, dark silhouettes against a darker background, moving silently and preparing for the inevitable. He looks to his side, taking in the way the blonde host continuously clasps and unclasps her hands and he deduces that she must fancy herself just as nervous as he is. He almost breaks the forced silence by laughing at the absurdity of that idea but he stops himself, he has one chance and he's not going to ruin it.

The only light is coming from the flashing red button on the main camera that stands a good 5 metres from the couches that he and the woman are sitting on. It matches his heartbeat, the flashing rhythm and it's almost hypnotic.

Red

It's almost as if it's watching him.

Red

As if it's taunting him.

Red

Telling him to run away.

Red

He wants to listen he really does, in fact he shifts his weight onto to feet, leaning away from the couch, ready to propel himself off the set and into the wings where surely he can hyperventilate in peace. There's no way he can do this without him and with each passing second, the pressure that's pulling him under seems to double and it's as if the darkness in all corners of the room is mocking him, reminding him who's missing.

Red

Red

Red

He knows only a few seconds has passed since they turned the lights off, it can't be more than 30 seconds as they are nothing if not punctual but the seconds are stretching, going on forever in some sort of sick loop-

Green

Light is suddenly flooding the space and the familiarity of being abruptly thrust from darkness renders him immobile, emotions too incomprehensible to name course through him and all he can do is gaze around frantically, trying to find some reminder of where he is.

"My name is Piper Ray and you're watching Taking the Truth."

It's almost a relief to hear her voice, the professional edge somehow reassuring him where he is and after blinking twice he is able to focus on her, on her blatantly dyed blonde hair and coral lipstick. She's so superficial it's comforting.

"On the 17th of June this year, a seemingly harmless decision made by an American teenager triggered a startling chain of events that would shock not only the United States but the entire world."

He can feel his skin grow hot at her words, it's been almost two months and he still hasn't been able to rid himself of the heavy guilt that he feels the moment he wakes up and that he carries around with him until he's able to sleep again. But there are times when he can't escape it, on the days where he isn't worn out from enduring the purgatory that others seem determined to inflict on him. Instead of the dreamless, almost intoxicating sleep he has grown accustomed to, on these nights he is plagued with the unavoidable task of re-living every moment he has grown to regret and love at the same time.

He is lucky the camera isn't on him yet, he feels hot and ice cold at the same time, his head throbbing with anticipation as the woman keeps on talking, her voice too clear for him to push into the background.

"When Congressman Burt Hummel was elected several years no one could have foreseen the extreme consequences his political views prompted. From the start Mr Hummel made his views on gang welfare clear and when fellow congressman Christopher Daley's dealings with Daniel Smythe were revealed Burt Hummel made a public statement condemning his colleague. While Mr. Smythe has never been linked to any of his family's alleged crimes, he previously served two and a half years for assault charges on a four year sentence."

Oh God.

He almost can't bear it, the mention of his father sends him spiralling into anxiety. He can feel his nails digging into his palm and it's only the thought of having to shake this woman's hand in the next few minutes that stops him from breaking the skin. It would almost be a relief to feel the pain, to be distracted from the way he feels like someone is punching him in the stomach every time Hummel and Smythe is mentioned in the same sentence. Lately it's almost as if the two have blended into one, a single identity that he cannot or doesn't want to escape from. It's not the name, what's in a name after all. It's the judgement; the pity behind them that he wishes didn't exist. It may not be his problem but it only affects him.

"While both men, Mr. Smythe and Mr. Daley were given six year sentence with no chance of parole, the incident was not forgotten and it wasn't long until, after several death threats Burt Hummel was under constant surveillance at all times. But this was not enough. And one month after Mr, Hummel's public declaration, on June 17th, his 17 year old son, Kurt was taken hostage as he was crossing town on the way to McKenzie hall, Lima, Ohio."

Even though the camera isn't on him yet, he feels as if he is under scrutiny, as if there are hundreds in the room, all staring at him. He almost longs for the comfort of darkness again; the fear of the unknown is suddenly a lot easier to deal with now that the reality of where he is has sunk in. His throat has gone tight and breathing has suddenly become a momentous task. For someone who once craved the limelight, he feels that is a bitter disappointment.

"Today we have Kurt here in the studio and he has kindly agreed to answer a few questions about what has been described as the most horrifying political hostage of the 21st century. Kurt, it's lovely to have you with us."

This is it. This is his moment. The camera has now zoomed out and he is thrust into a conversation he never wanted to have.

"Hello," he says, careful not to look at the flashing green light but instead at Piper Ray, making sure to keep contact as he shakes her hand. "It's nice to be here Piper."

Lies.

Piper shifts in her seat and he realises that he has been holding her eyes for longer than socially acceptable and hastily looks down at his shoes. Peeking out from his eyelashes he can see that her expression has turned from professional to pitying and he flushes, unable to hide his grimace.

"So Kurt," she begins. "Can you please tell me what happened on June 17th?"

*******

"…there really is no substitute for quality is there? And while of course it did mean my dads' weren't able to buy the coffee machine they wanted, it is an investment into my future career."

Kurt held back a sigh at Rachel's words and continued to make his way to the road crossing, tightening his grip on his satchel and pressing his phone closer to his ear.

"Of course," he made the noise of approval that was expected of him. "A new recording mike will definitely make it easier for you in New York."

"Ahhh," Kurt heard Rachel sigh happily into the phone and he smirked. The move to New York was fast approaching and the closer it got, the more excitable Rachel got. He was excited too of course, it was New York after all but the desperation he had once wished with to move away from Ohio had dissipated into quiet longing tinged with a little nostalgia. He would miss the New Directions of course, he would miss his family and a part of him would also miss Lima itself. Admittedly that was a very small part of him, Lima had only the one mall, a mediocre one at that and while there was also a small scattering of specialty boutiques they stocked only a fifth of what he wanted to own. But aside from the dismal shopping opportunities there were parts of the town he would miss, the most dominant being the Lima Community Theatre group, whose performances his father would take him to every year until he was 13 and while they were not the most talented bunch, what the group had lacked in skill they had made up in enthusiasm. He had a lot of fond memories of those performances, going to pre-dinner show and then going out for dinner with his Father who wasn't yet a congressman at the time. When his father had been elected those outings had had become fewer and fewer in between until the only time he went out with his father was the few ceremonial dinners he was allowed to go to. He much preferred dinners at home with his father, Carole and Finn anyway and joining glee club in high school had satisfied his musical cravings meaning that he hadn't give much thought to the Lima Community group. Until last week that is when Rachel had casually mentioned that they were performing Wizard of Oz in the next few months and were looking for people to audition. He had immediately decided to audition, not only did have large amounts of free time ahead of him but winning Nationals had left him feeling more confident than he normally did and the idea of performing in one of his favourite productions of all time in his hometown was admittedly very appealing.

"Kurt?" Rachel asked from the other end of the phone line and Kurt gave a start, realising he had forgotten to pay attention to Rachel.

"Oh sorry, what did you say?" He tried to sound apologetic. "Something about New York?"

"Never mind!" Rachel huffed. "You're obviously distracted, not that I blame you of course. Your audition is in what, half an hour?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm almost there, I'm just about to cross onto Arthur St."

He had finally reached the road crossing and from where he was standing he could almost see the celery-green sign that read McKenzie Hall.

"Oh!" Rachel squealed. "Break a leg Kurt!"

"Thanks Rach," Kurt said and seeing that pedestrian light had begun to flash green, he began to walk across. "I'll see you after right? At Tina's?"

His eyes drifted towards the hall and he felt the familiar tingle of nerves he normally got when preparing to perform. He wished that his dad was in Lima so that he could have watched him audition or at the very least be at home waiting to have dinner with Kurt. But Burt Hummel was too busy in Washington dealing with matters such as the financial market and the Smythe family. And while Kurt knew it was safer for his dad in Washington, he couldn't help selfishly wishing for him to come home anyway.

"Yep! Her parents are out of town-"

Kurt gasped as a black van almost didn't stop for the lights and only narrowly missed hitting him as Kurt crossed the road, the tires sqealing as it came to a stop.

"Shit…" he muttered, heart pounding.

"What? Kurt?" Rachel asked, sounding worried. "What happened?"

"Oh just some idiot almost ran me over, I'm fine." Kurt ran a hand through his hair and after glaring at the car, whose windows were so tinted that he couldn't see who was driving, continued to make his way to the other side of the road. "Look I better hang up, I'll call you-"

Suddenly, without warning a heavy hand sealed itself over Kurt's mouth and his phone and bag were ripped away from him, clattering onto the bitumen.

"Unf," Kurt's eyes went wide and he struggled for breath, trying to scream. There were more than one pair of hands holding him, restraining his arms and legs, making it impossible for him to fight back or even turn his to the side to identify his attackers.

"I have to stay in Washington kid, I don't want Smythe coming after me. I'll be safer here."

Kurt's fathers earlier words came back to him and realisation flooded over him and he immediately recognised what was happening. He gazed around; hoping desperately to see people or witnesses but the street was completely empty, the only sign of life being the birds he could hear twittering softly amongst the trees.

He whimpered again as he felt himself be dragged towards the back of the stationary van and the hand around his mouth tightened.

"Be quiet," a voice growled in his ear and could feel rough fabric graze his skin. "Or you won't make it very far."

As Kurt was quickly brought around to the back of the car, he caught his first glance of one of the men who were restraining him and while he wore a black balaclava, Kurt could clearly the see the coldness in his eyes and his already turbulent stomach flipped.

As more unidentifiable men opened the back of the car, which Kurt could now see didn't have a license plate; Kurt knew it was his last chance of escape.

He abruptly bit into the hand that was covering his mouth and when the man yelped in surprise Kurt tried to break himself free, his limbs flailing as he tried to escape the tight grip.

His attempt however was futile, the other men who were still holding onto him, barely jostling as he tried his hardest and when it became clear he wasn't going to escape he slumped into defeat, all his energy gone and instead replaced with a dizzying fear.

"Nice try…" A different voice this time said and Kurt was roughly thrown into the spacious back of the van. Kurt gasped loudly, the heavy impact taking away his breath.

"P-please…." He said frantically, scrambling to the still open door, "Let, let me go."

"Not a chance." One of the men said, his smirk evident in his tone and Kurt's face crumpled.

"Please!" he cried, his voice rising with hysteria. "Please, please, please."

"He's not going to be quiet is he?" The same faceless man said and he inched closer to Kurt, making Kurt's heart beaten quicken with fear. "Get back in the back of the van and we won't kill you."

Kurt could hear the sincerity in the threat and he immediately turned, his legs shaking as he tried to crawl back to where he had been before. But as he did, he felt a hand grasp at his leg and before he could call out in fear he felt, rather than saw a syringe pierce skin and feeling the strange sensation of something being injected into his leg, he twisted his head only to lose conciseness seconds later. The last thing he saw was his own blood trickling down his leg, a red trail leading to nowhere.

*******

"So you never saw the faces of the men who took you into the van?" Piper Ray immediately asks after he finishes speaking. While his words had lacked conviction and had sounded monotonous even to his own ears, Piper Ray had seemed fascinated by every word. He doesn't feel any better for talking but the bright lighting and the burly camera crew he can see from the corner of his eye don't seem as intimating as they had only a few minutes ago. His heart is racing from reliving that first encounter but he is almost able to detach himself from his own body, pretend it isn't him spilling his every secret. The camera is still on him and the room is so quiet he can even hear Piper Ray's quiet breathing. She is looking at him expectantly and he gradually remembers that she asked a question.

"No," he says and then clarifies. "I never saw their faces, I never saw anyone's faces uh except-"

He stills.

Piper Ray blinks.

The camera light flashes.

He's not supposed to mention it, not yet anyway and he can see the cogs turning in Piper Ray's mind as she realises what he has said and it is with false ignorance that she moves on.

"And then you were drugged with Rohypnol, a common date-rape drug that makes the receiver lose consciousness and remain heavily intoxicated for more than 24 hours." she says and her face flickers slightly and swallows hard, bile rising in his throat. "And you were then taken away to a house 2 hours away in Westerville."

"Yes," he says and then feeling like he should say something more adds; "But I don't remember that, I was unconscious."

She nods. "By the time you woke up one day later, practically the whole country was looking for you."

He clenches his fists and takes several deeps breath, keeping his expression passive while his insides churn with guilt.

"Can you please tell us what happened after you woke up?" Piper Ray leans forward and he sighs.

Sometimes it feels like I never woke up.

He can't say that.

"After I woke up…"

*******

"New York, here we come!"

Rachel.

"Congratulations kid, you got in."

His Father.

"You're one of my best friends Kurt."

Mercedes.

Kurt's head swam with memories; opening his NYADA letter, making plans with Rachel, sleep-overs with Mercedes. As he drifted, the colours and shapes blurred together until he couldn't distinguish one from the other, each moment looping endlessly. Slowly the memories seem to dissipate, gradually fading away until the only thing left in his subconscious was a heavy darkness that seemed to be pressing onto his eyelids.

He needed to wake up and it was with startling clarity that he realised why. Despite the desperation whirling inside his head, he opened his eyes sluggishly and immediately wished he hadn't. Wherever he was there were no windows and the only source of light was the flashing light coming from a power outlet on the wall. He could feel that he was lying on a mattress but when he tried to move himself, the events he only dimly remembered at the forefront of his mind, his body wouldn't cooperate with his legs only twitching slightly. He opened his mouth to scream but his throat felt dry and the only sound that came out was a small whimper, the sound barely registering through the heavy fog that was clouding his mind.

Despite knowing that he had woken up he still felt as if he were dreaming, strange shapes seemed to appear in the darkness and light that he knew to be non-existent shone out of the corner of his eye. Heart beating quickly he attempted again to move his legs and when that failed, he tried lifting his arms, his hysteria heightening when they inevitably remained on the mattress.

He clamped his eyes shut, no longer able to cope with the thoughts clambering around inside his head. His brain was still far from lucid but despite feeling incredibly fatigued in every way, closing his eyes did not bring Kurt sleep or the escape he craved.

Instead he was again bombarded with memories, harsh ones this time, making him even more powerless and unable to do anything but whimper softly.

"He's masculine, not like you."

"No offense, but you're kind of a bitch…"

"I'm trying! You know I am, it's just hard."

"Why would you say something like that, I have feelings you know."

"Fag."

Over and over he relived every insult, every confrontation and every mistake. The words of his friends with their frank honesty seemed to play constantly and with every minute that passed, a little of his remaining sanity seemed to float away with it.

He didn't realise he was crying until the sounds of his small cries became louder and through the haze he felt his tears slide down his cheeks. He groaned in frustration as he tried to move again, still keeping his eyes closed and without even thinking about it, he kept trying, his body twitching uselessly against the mattress.

"Stop."

The word hung in the empty air and Kurt's eyes snapped open.

In the dark, amongst the heavy shadows there was someone standing over him.


	2. Chapter 2

Another broken cry left his lips and Kurt thrashed with much more intensity than before; the sight of someone in the room he previously thought was empty making the danger of the situation hit him all over again.

"Stop." The obviously male voice spoke again and Kurt froze when the figure bent down to his level giving Kurt his first look at his captor. Kurt looked; even though he didn't want to and while he didn't stop his useless attempts to lift his legs and arms he was able to see that the man, for Kurt suspected that he was a man despite the lankiness that suggested otherwise, was not nearly as physically intimidating as the men in the van. The suffocating darkness didn't allow for him to gain a clearer picture but Kurt could still see that like his tone, his face was neither kind nor hostile and instead seemed devoid of any emotion. As the man moved his face closer to Kurt's, Kurt was seized by an immeasurable terror and he clenched his eyes shut, expecting to feel either a syringe in his arm or perhaps a series of sharp blows to his head but instead he felt cool hands touch his back, not pressing him down but simply holding him still.

"You need to stop, the Rohypnol is still in your system. It won't wear off for another hour." The man moved his hands onto Kurt's sides and although his touch was removed and clinical, Kurt felt his empty stomach twist in disgust. "Until then you need to rest, it won't do any good to struggle, you'll just wear yourself out."

Kurt considered the man's words for a moment, his mind struggling to find the meaning behind them and when the man made no further attempt at touching him Kurt surrendered to his aching body, ceasing the twitching of his legs and slumping onto the mattress. He felt heavy fatigue settle over him almost immediately and the frantic thoughts he had been thinking only moments ago were mercifully disappearing as his eyelids began to droop. The man gave an almost unnoticeable sigh that sounded a lot like relief and through hooded eyes Kurt saw him twist away from the mattress only to lean against the wall directly adjacent from where his own head lay. As Kurt began to drift off his mind thankfully devoid of worry or desperation, the only thing he could see behind his closed eyes was the image of the man only two feet away.

Who was he? 

*******

"When you first realised you weren't alone in that room," Piper Ray's voice is soothing, as if she can ease the truth from him with a few well-chosen words. "If you hadn't been incapacitated by the Rohypnol do you believe you would have attacked him?"

It is a trick question, they are setting him up to fail. If he answers this question this interview will rendered pointless he knows that.

He swallows hard.

Looks at Piper Ray right in the eyes.

"Who knows what I would have done, certainly not me."

He's almost proud of how firm his voice is, it leaves no room for discussion and when he sees her sigh minutely he feels a small thrill of victory.

"You said in a statement two weeks ago that your first hour captive was almost the worst," Piper Ray's face has twists into an approximation of sympathy as she changes her angle. "Why is that?"

It is an insensitive question and it is actually the sort of question he has expected the media to ask, it's a subtle opening to the bigger scandal that lies within.

"Maybe because I was still drugged," he says, his tone unemotional, not sarcastic like he wants to be. "Maybe because I had been taken from my home and my dad."

His Dad is backstage somewhere, watching the interview on a television and ready to step in at any time to stop the broadcast. He wishes that Burt Hummel was standing by one of the cameras that he can faintly see in the corner of his eye. He feels alone but then again alone is almost normal now.

"Ah yes," Piper Ray blinks once, then again. "By that time your Dad had already issued a public statement asking for any information on your whereabouts, not knowing how close to your old neighbourhood you were. Had you been to Westerville before?"

"Not that I can remember,." His answer is honest and Piper Ray looks like she wants to sigh again.

"Tell me about what happened when you woke up and you were no longer affected by the Rohypnol."

Here we go again.

*******

Kurt woke up with a start, remembering all at once what had happened. Unlike the last time he had come to consciousness his brain was completely clear and unclouded, the memories of being taken into the van and also being held down by the man who had been watching him all horribly vivid.

He sat bolt upright on the mattress, eyes hastily scanning the room for any sign of another human being but he found none. The room was slightly lighter than what it had been before due to a dim light hanging from the ceiling and now he was able to see how tiny the space was and also that other than the heavily barricaded door to the left of him, there was also what looked like a bathroom directly across from the mattress.

His stomach gave an uncomfortable twist and Kurt squirmed. He gave the room another once over, heart pounding and when he was sure no one was there he scrambled to the edge of the mattress and tried to pull himself off. He groaned softly as his muscles burned at the effort and standing up he almost immediately lost his balance. He supposed it was because whatever it the men in the van had given him, Raplin? Rolphyn? He tensed again at the reminder of the man and he glanced around the room again, immediately relaxing slightly when it was once again empty.

He gingerly made his way to the adjoining bathroom which consisted of a toilet and a sink crammed into the tiny space. Kurt winced as he entered, too caught up with his aching body to even be thankful for the soap that was next to the sink.

It took a while to unzip his jeans and even longer to relieve himself so when he was finally washing his hands in the little sink it was the first time since he had woken up that his mind was not occupied and his mind immediately went into overdrive.

His father.

Kurt whimpered at the thought of how his father must have been feeling, the blame he must have been putting on himself. His heart attack had only been less than a year ago and this surely would be enough to trigger another one. Kurt stuffed a hand into his mouth trying to stop the tears that were quickly streaming down his face, he had to get control of himself, he had no idea what was going to happen to him.

Suddenly the ache of missing his dad completely consumed him and Kurt doubled over, his hands clutching at his sides as his breathing became erratic as he struggled to stop thinking.

He couldn't stand another moment of being trapped like this. He had to get out of there.

He hauled himself out of the bathroom, grasping onto the sides of the doorway afraid that he might collapse. He went straight for the deadlocked door, managing not to fall down as he did so, coughing desperately and gasping desperately for breath.

"Let me out!" He howled, banging heavily on the door. "Let me out!"

When he heard no response he banged harder, his palms stinging as they connected with the wooden door again and again.

"Let me out!" He was almost sobbing as he raised his voice, not caring at all how he sounded. "Goddammit!"

The door was abruptly opened and Kurt was thrown backwards, landing on the floor with a heavy thump.

A man stood in the doorway wearing a mask and from what he could remember he was not the man who had watched him but instead he was muscly and menacingly tall. He was holding a syringe and Kurt flinched back in terror.

"Let me out," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "Please…"

"You're gonna shut up," the man growled and he began to step towards Kurt who tried to scramble back, trying hard not to cry out at the pain that shot through him as he did so.

"Please…" He mumbled as the man got closer. When the man didn't respond and instead grabbed onto Kurt's arm. Kurt bit his cheek to stop from screaming, feeling horribly vulnerable at how tiny he was in comparison to the faceless man.

He clenched his eyes shut, knowing what was coming and not wanting to watch. He tried to detach himself from the pain but he breathed in sharply as he felt the syringe plunge into him.

"Good boy…" The man whispered and Kurt wrenched his arm free, trying to hurriedly scramble to the mattress. He only made it halfway before he was overtaken by oblivion.

*******

"That was the second time you'd been drugged," Piper Ray says, her face seeming for once genuinely sympathetic. "Except instead of Rohypnol it was a sleeping drug similar to anaesthesia called Thyophine."

He nods, hating the repetitiveness of the interview and how everything he says is being repeated to him as if he wasn't there to experience when it actually happened.

Piper Ray twists away from him and for a split second he wonders if maybe he accidentally said that last part out loud but then she is suddenly addressing the cameras and he sighs in relief at being able to drop his façade if only for a few seconds while the camera is not on him.

"Thyophine has been illegal in the United States for five years now as multiple doses can cause side effects such as permanent loss of hearing, hallucinations and bladder inflammation."

He didn't know that.

"The Smythe family," she continues. "Has admitted to smuggling in a large quantity of the drug from Cuba, the only place in the world where it is still legal."

His heart thumps at the mention of Smythe and he is grateful that the camera is not on him because he assumes that his expression is entirely transparent. He still has not gotten used to it and he doubts he ever will, just like he still has not gotten used to the pulsing light of the camera or the faux cheeriness of the sunset-yellow studio that he is being forced to bare his soul in.

Once again the urge to flee becomes almost unbearable, he wants to leave and for there to be no questions asked because with his situation it is completely understandable but if the people understood then he wouldn't be here and so he has to stay.

He is so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn't realise that Piper has stopped talking and is looking at him expectantly.

"Im sorry?" he rearranges his expression to one of apology.

"I just asked you if you would like to continue," she says gently and even though it's the most genuine he has seen her he still wants to rip her hair out.

Of course he doesn't want to continue.

"Oh yes," he says hollowly. "As I was saying…"

Waking up for the third time before Kurt could even register his surroundings or remember what had happened he was made aware of how empty his stomach was and how dry his mouth felt. The room was once again without much light and he was lying on his stomach with his head facing the wall and it felt as if his stomach was twisting and turning into infinite knots. While his concept of time passing was made hazy due to the time he spent intoxicated, he guessed that he hadn't eaten in almost two days.

His head was pounding and the ache in his stomach only seemed to increase as the seconds rolled by. Kurt withheld a groan and shifted slightly to the left in an attempt to dull the emptiness that was beginning to consume him but all that did was cause a magnitude of painto shoot through him.

He exhaled sharply, the side of his face pressing into the mattress as jolts of pain continued to course through him. He felt remarkably lightheaded and even just keeping his eyes open was difficult. He had only just woken up and yet his body felt weak and ragdoll-like, a thought that made him feel sick in a completely different way. This feeling of vulnerability was exactly what they wanted, what the Smythe family intended him to feel and he had no choice but to fall into their plan.

While the feelings of pain and dizziness did not disappear Kurt felt himself becoming more aware and lying there, trying to focus on something other than himself he suddenly realised that he could hear that someone, someone other than him was breathing. Reflexively he quickly rolled onto his side, unable to stop the low groan that escaped him when predicably his body was shot up with pain.

Opening his eyes from when they had been shut in pain, Kurt found himself lying almost on the edge of the mattress and only two feet away from the same person who had stood over him hours before, who was once again sitting down on the floor next to the mattress. Kurt's eyes widened in shock and for once he was able to forget his aching body.

Now that there was more light, Kurt could now see the man's features instead of the vague impression he had managed while he had been too drugged up to notice much. He looked no older than 19, his face still retaining an element of youth despite his sharp cheekbones. His hair was either a light brown or perhaps a dark blonde While Kurt couldn't see what colour his eyes were, he could see dark shadows under them and like the last time he could also see the way they seemed to be blank with no emotional depth at all.

Kurt shivered as the man or boy rather, continued to stare at him, his gaze not intimidating nor comforting and Kurt felt unease spread over him as he stared back, unable to stop his expression twisting with fear.

Eventually the boy broke the almost staring competition by looking away, his expression unchanged but there was a tightness in his jaw that wasn't there before. Kurt rolled onto his back, groaning as he was made aware of how completely wrecked he was. He needed food, he needed water there but to have to ask, to beg for something, it would up his vulnerability to a new level and he couldn't do that, he was going to lose this but on his own terms.

So he didn't ask for food, he didn't ask for water, he just waited. He breathed in and out, careful not match his own breaths to those of the boy he knew was only a few feet away. He tried to distract himself by counting the cracks on the wall he could barely see but with every minute his energy seeped further and further away and pretty soon the only thing on his mind was sustenance, sustenance he could not bear to ask for.

He didn't realise he was moaning until he felt cool hands gently turning him over so that he was lying on his back. Kurt wrenched his eyes open to see that he was looking up at the boy who had been watching over him.

"Fuck." The boy spoke before Kurt could react and anything Kurt would have said was pushed from his mind at the sight of the boy's expression. His eyes were no longer emotionless but instead alight with barely concealed anger.

"Fuck," The boy repeated again and Kurt squirmed under his heavy gaze, summoning all his strength to weakly attempt at batting the boy's hands away from his shoulders.

The boy took the hint and removed his hands. "When was the last time you ate?" he asked roughly.

"I-don't-remember," Kurt croaked, too tired to stall and the boy's expression hardened. Kurt tried to scrutinise the boy harder but the new position he was in meant that not only did he feel boneless and weak but his head seemed to be hurting with a new intensity, every sound seemed to echo in his mind and the more he tried to focus the harder it became.

Kurt was so caught up in the confines of his own mind that he didn't realise that the boy had left until he heard the slam of the door. Almost idly he realised that the door was in fact unlocked now but the thought of moving off the bed and then trying to escape was too painful and impossible to even consider it.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be guarding him!" A voice yelled from outside the room and it took Kurt awhile to place it as the same man who had put him to sleep. He shivered, the memory of the crushing terror making his stomach twist.

"What the hell Joseph?!" Another voice spoke and Kurt immediately knew it was the boy who had been watching him. "You haven't given him anything to eat! He's not a fucking animal!"

Kurt heard a few muffled exclamations and a large thump then silence. What was going on? Was their plan to starve him to death?

He's not a fucking animal.

Kurt's head throbbed, from his weak state or confusion, he didn't know. His breathing became slower, short laboured gasps leaving his lips and filling up the empty silence that filled the entire room. He had almost lost track of time, his eyelids drooping from exhaustion when the sound of the door being opened brought him back to his senses.

It was the boy again and with him he had brought a tray that Kurt could see held a plastic bottle of water and what looked like bread. His stomach leapt at the sight of food and Kurt clung desperately to the hope that the food was for him, no longer caring how vulnerable he looked.

The tray was set down on the bed next to him and almost immediately Kurt was being lifted like he weighed nothing into a sitting position.

Kurt was too weak to protest at the strange touch and he was unable to stop the loud whimper that escaped him as his head lolled to the side and he felt himself flush in shame. The boy's face remained passive thankfully as he shifted Kurt into a more comfortable position and when Kurt was pressed up against the wall he placed the tray into Kurt's lap, careful not to touch him anymore.

Kurt breathed in deeply, eyeing the food and water with trepidation. While all he wanted to do was gulp down the water and ease the burn in his stomach, his previous fears still lingered and clearing his throat he addressed the boy who was still kneeling next to the mattress.

"It's not poisoned is it?" Kurt's voice was rough and he his hand itched to grasp the water bottle.

"No," The boy said, not looking at him but Kurt could see that his expression was back to being blank as was his voice. "If they wanted you dead, you would be dead."

Kurt eyed him for a second but as the boy remained silent Kurt immediately turned his attention back to the tray, already reaching out for the bottle, heart thumping with relief.

It wasn't until later, when he had finished the food and he was lying on the mattress, feeling sleepy, that he replayed their conversation.

"If they wanted you dead, you would be dead."

They?

He was not stupid he knew who "they" were but surely the boy was one of them?

It almost kept him awake as it was easier to focus on then his father or friends back home but eventually thoughts and emotions begun to blur together and he fell asleep, the small mystery all but forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

"You should audition Kurt!"

"Oh my lord yes! You'll definitely get a role!"

"You should definitely do it dude."

"Try and stay at home. Don't go wondering off without telling anyone and keep your cell phone on okay? I don't want you getting hurt."

Stay at home.

Stay at home.

A jolt at the end of his mattress brought Kurt back to consciousness and he sat bolt upright, heart thumping with his hair plastered to his face with perspiration. He could tell that he had barely been asleep for a few hours from not only how exhausted he still felt but also from the heaviness of his eyelids as he fought to keep them open.

It took him a moment to realise what caused the jolt but glancing down to the bottom of the mattress, Kurt could see a tray that held a bowl of rice and some water. He searched the room immediately and was not surprised to see the boy as he'd begun to call him in his head; leaning against the wall in the same position as before.

As if feeling Kurt's gaze, the boy turned his head and looked him straight in the eyes. Kurt stared back, still not completely awake and also still feeling the effects of his dream. Eventually the other boy broke away, his eyes returning to the locked door and Kurt sighed, his head fogging up with confusion.

Feeling his stomach rumble he looked again towards the tray and having made the decision the previous night that it would do no good to starve himself, reached for it eagerly. The rice was still warm and there was a more reasonable portion when compared to the few slices of bread he had received the night before, or at least he had assumed it was night time. He was fairly certain that his body clock had been thoroughly messed with and the windowless room gave no indication of whether it was night or day in the outside world.

Kurt tensed, trying to push any thoughts of his family and friends out of his mind as he continued to eat. The room felt terribly remote and alone, there was nothing there to remind him of his father, to keep him grounded and the terrible ache of missing him only seemed to increase.

He forced another spoonful of rice into his mouth, ignoring the way it suddenly felt heavy in his mouth and instead focusing on his hunger, swallowing mouthful after mouthful until the bowl was empty. He took a long drink from the water bottle, the cool liquid easing his burning throat a little but he stopped when it was just under half empty, he didn't know when and if he would be given more and he did not want to risk it. Feeling extremely vulnerable, he placed the water beside him and returned the tray to where it had been placed before. He returned to the head of the mattress, leaning against the wall and careful that he could see where the boy still sat, not looking at Kurt.

The room was completely quiet and the silence only seemed to make Kurt's thoughts louder, his anxiety quickly increasing as he was unable to stop memories and worries of his father bombarding his mind. He knew his Father would be looking for him and he knew his father's status as a prominent congressman would mean that the Lima Police wouldn't be the only institution looking for him but even that didn't reassure him in the slightest. They could spend years looking for him and never find him, for all he knew he wasn't even in America, let alone Ohio and then he would never be found. He could be stuck there forever, never leaving this windowless hell that was sucking away his life one second at a time.

Kurt felt his breathing increase and he fought to regain control, his Dad's words from a few years ago reverberating inside his head.

"You're the most important thing in my life, Kiddo. I know I'm not always around but I want you to know that I don't know what I what I would do without you."

The guilt that Kurt had begun to feel constantly flared and he bit his lip hard, trying desperately not to think about his dad, his friends, all of it. They would be so worried and there was nothing he could do. He was wasting away or he was going to. He would break eventually and there would be nothing here that would be able to fix it and he didn't want to be broken but what choice did he have? He wasn't strong enough.

"You're just like your mom, Kurt. You're strong like she was."

This time, at remembering his dad's words Kurt could no longer hold back the sob escaped him. Even after all this time, his mother's death still felt fresh in his mind and he could imagine what his father had gone through losing her, Burt Hummel had always been there for Kurt during that time and every time after that, even when he was obviously suffering and hurting he never let it affect Kurt and it was only when he though Kurt wasn't looking that he let all the pain show on his face. Every year on the anniversary of Elizabeth's death it was the one day that Kurt ever saw his father cry, the one day that the mask slipped and Kurt could see what had been lost. It was hard to miss someone you barely remembered but Kurt knew it was harder for Burt to lose the woman he loved. And now he was losing Kurt.

He was crying now, heavy tears streaming out of his eyes and down his face, blotting the white mattress. He couldn't find it in him to care how loud he was being, his sniffles turning into racking coughs as he felt control slip further from his grasp.

There was nothing to hold him there, nothing to keep him grounded. He couldn't concentrate on anything but the outside world. His father had been his anchor, the one who would always look out for him and the one who would always make sure he was safe but without him, without the knowledge that Burt Hummel was just a room or a phone call away, Kurt felt his mind float further and further away. It was as if he had become disconnected from his body and all he felt was pain.

He was crying harder now, his choked sobs echoing in the almost empty room and he was rocking back and forth on the mattress, head buried in his hands. He was aware how hysterical he was being, it was hard not to be but as the anxiety and pain shot through him, it felt like he would always be this way. This angry. This upset and this alone.

He turned his head, still crying to look at the boy beside the mattress. Unsurprisingly he was staring straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to Kurt's hysterics and it only seemed to intensify the loneliness. Kurt fell forward onto the mattress abruptly, burrowing his face deep into the cushy material.

He wanted so desperately to sleep, to immerse himself in the peaceful oblivion that he stayed there, lying on the mattress until he fell into a heavy slumber, still crying softly.

*******

"For the entirety of your hostage situation, you suffered greatly from trauma induced depression," Piper Ray says with her face appropriately solemn. "After you were released you were prescribed very strong anti-depressants, are you still taking them?"

He thinks of the several small pill containers sitting by his bed at home, most unopened and the few that are not, almost completely full of little white pills.

"Yes," he lies easily. Not even his Dad knows he doesn't take them, he puts on such a good show during the day that even some of his closest friends believe that he is fine. And while his father knows that he's not, he still thinks Kurt is getting better, that he's making progress.

But the pills are not progress, the pills make him so numb and he can't deal with being numb. It's like being in the dark, objects and people are there but you can't see them. He wants to feel his pain.

"How often?" She probes. "How often do you take the pills?"

"That's a very personal-"he begins but he can't make trouble and while a part of him his telling him to speak up and not to worry about what happens next he does care and so he can't. "Twice a day."

She nods and his slip in decorum is swept under the rug, ignored. "And how do they make you feel?" she asks and suddenly he realises how easily lying is becoming a part of who he is.

"They make me feel in control," he recites what his doctor said to him. "And like I can be myself."

It is such a blatant lie but it rolls easily off his tongue and he only hopes that everyone will believe him.

"That's good," she says when the silence between becomes too long. "Why don't you continue from where you left off?"

*******

Kurt awoke to the sound of muffled voices and while he could not distinguish any individual words he knew that the conversation was not a friendly one.

He rolled over onto his side and looked around the room, noting that he was completely alone. His eyes still felt heavy from all the crying and while his head had cleared enough that he wasn't about to lose himself again, his worries were still at the forefront of his mind and the empty room seemed to only enforce them. He shifted restlessly, picking at his cotton sweat pants while he tried to think clearly, his mind still fogged with a combination of sleepiness and anxiety. It was probably the first time the room had felt claustrophobic for him. When the room had been unfamiliar it had seemed almost intimidatingly vast but now that he knew it, the walls were beginning to close up on him, fulfilling their purpose to contain him.

He clambered off the mattress, wanting to do anything to relieve the panic that was building in his mind once again. He was beginning to exist in a constant cycle of exhaustion and hysteria and he needed to be able to break it or at least lead himself away from it with distraction.

He took a large mouthful of water from the bottle that was still beside him and then made his way over to the other side of the room, not even having to make the effort to move silently as the carpeted floor swallowed any sounds that his bare feet could have made. He pressed his ear against the door, his heartbeat quickening when he recognised not only the voice of the boy but also that of the terrifying man who Kurt assumed kept guard.

"….sent the message two hours ago." The man grumbled and Kurt pressed his ear harder against the door, not wanting to miss out on the opportunity to listen.

"No response?" Another voice asked and Kurt immediately knew who it was. The words were spoken in the same impassive way that Kurt had been told to lie still.

"Nah, not yet." The man sounded frustrated. "It's fucking ridiculous, if it keeps going this way we're just going to have to kill him."

Kurt shivered, knowing it was him who they were talking about. But honestly, the prospect of dying was becoming less and less frightening and the thought of his father losing all his family was becoming more painful.

"You wouldn't." The boy's voice was no longer impassive and instead he sounded like he was trying hard to keep the anger in his voice under control.

"Oh come on Sebastian," The man laughed and it took Kurt a second to realise who he was talking to. The boy's name was Sebastian then. "Something's going to happen and whatever it is, it's going to hurt Burt Hummel right where it hurts."

At the mention of his father Kurt felt his heart drop and he held back the instinctual whimper at the threat in the man's voice.

"He'll give the money," Sebastian said quietly. "He won't risk losing his son."

"Maybe," The man laughed. "Maybe not."

Kurt felt anger shoot through him at the man's words. His father loved him and Kurt knew that he would pay whatever it was that they were asking to bring him home. If nothing else, Kurt knew that his father had meant it when he said he would always be there for him.

"You're sick." Sebastian spoke without emotion and Kurt eyed the door curiously, unsure of where this was going.

"Sure kid," The man didn't sound ruffled; instead he sounded more amused than anything else. "You know for your father's son, you sure are soft."

His father?

Kurt frowned, his brain trying to make sense of the words.

But then, it clicked.

This Sebastian must be son of James Smythe and the brother to Daniel Smythe.

The realisation filled him with horror; he had been left in a room with the son of the most dangerous man in America without even knowing. He had assumed that he had been a lackey, someone hired to do the monotonous task of watching over him and making sure he didn't do anything but instead he got the future of the Smythe Family.

Kurt didn't realise that the two outside had stopped talking, too busy with his jumbled up thoughts of Sebastian and his father and so he was completely taken by surprise when the door he was leaning on was shoved open roughly, causing him to fall heavily on the ground, the fall almost winding him.

"Eavesdropping were you?" The man whispered to Kurt, stepping past the doorway and into the room. Kurt squeaked and tried to scramble backwards, the terror he felt making his legs and arm shake.

The man took two large steps towards him and before Kurt could react, the man grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and hauled him over to the wall, pressing Kurt firmly against it and he placed his forearm under Kurt's chin to hold him there.

Kurt struggled violently, his quickened heartbeat drowning out any sound as he kicked and jerked his legs and arms. The man pressed his arm tighter against Kurt until the pressure meant that he was unable to breath. Kurt's gasps echoed throughout the room as he continued to struggle, the man still grinning at him, seemingly unaffected by Kurt's haphazard blows.

Eventually though it had to end and as Kurt felt himself grow lightheaded from lack of oxygen he let his body grow limp and his hands fall to his side, his face red from both the lack of air and the crushing shame he felt.

"Good boy," the man lessened the pressure on Kurt's throat and Kurt inhaled desperately, unable to hold back a small sob. The man was still smiling at him, the threat in his eyes barely concealed. Kurt's whole body convulsed with disgust and under the man's gaze he could feel nothing but shame.

"If you think you can sneak around here, listening to other people's conversations…" The man moved his face closer and Kurt felt the man's warm breath brush across his face and he bit his tongue, trying not to dry retch. "You're wrong."

Kurt barely had time to register the man's hand swinging towards him before he felt the heavy blow against the side of the face, his head crashing against the wall behind from the impact. His face burned, the back of his head ached and he was unable to stop the tears in his eyes from falling, the pressure of his teeth on his lower lip the only thing keeping him from sobbing openly. It wasn't that the pain was too extreme, he had handled about the same just going to school at McKinley but the sheer humiliation and the way the man was now grinning at Kurt as if Kurt was his prey made him feel more exposed than ever.

"Hm?" The man murmured, grazing his hand against Kurt's stinging cheek and Kurt stared back unflinchingly, trying to retain his last shred of dignity.

"I hope you've learnt your lesson kid," The man withdrew his hand and Kurt felt some of the tension ease out of him. "Next time you won't be so lucky."

Kurt almost sighed with relief when the man let him go completely but before he could do so much as slump against the wall he was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and thrown to the floor, only narrowly avoiding landing on his face.

Kurt let out a choked cry and from where he was lying on the ground he could hear the man's laughter, the sound resonating in his ears long after the door was shut behind him. Kurt pressed his face against the scratchy carpet and let out a shaky breath, his eyes were dry but his throat felt tight and his face still burnt with not only discomfort but shame.

He would shed no more tears over this. The throbbing ache on the back of his head was reminder enough of what could possibly be to come and inside him he felt a somewhat shaky resolution form. He needed to get home and he knew that his father would find the money to pay the Smythe family but the money was no good if Kurt were already dead. He needed to be strong, be strong for his father and for himself. The little voices in the back of his head that had been present ever since the ordeal begun that were now questioning his conviction seemed to become less important and Kurt took another deep breath, steadier this time.

He stayed lying on the floor for a while, his head too sore for him to even attempt getting up and it was only when he heard a small cough from the other side of the room that he made any effort to get up.

Of course Sebastian was still there and Kurt supposed he had witnessed everything that had happened from when he was caught eavesdropping. Sebastian showed no signs though, his face completely blank as he stared slightly to the left of Kurt, making it impossible for Kurt to meet his eyes.

"Nnng." Kurt groaned as he lifted himself up from the floor, swaying a little when he was completely standing but standing nonetheless. He slowly made his way over to the bathroom, proud that he was able to keep his footing and that he only lost his balance once. The ache was fading and while he was no expert he estimated that he would barely feel it after a good sleep. After relieving himself, all embarrassment of having Sebastian next door overtaken by the pain at the back of his head, Kurt walked towards the mattress, steadily ignoring Sebastian.

As he lay down, Kurt sighed, sleep seemed to be the only thing he did and while he wasn't even tired, he sank deeper into the mattress, shutting his eyes to avoid Sebastian and half-heartedly tried to get some sleep. He could feel his head throbbing and his stomach churn from hunger but eventually after what could have been several hours, he fell asleep only to be woken a few hours later to the last sound he would expect to hear.

Quiet sobbing filled the room and as Kurt blearily opened his eyes he half expected it to be him, crying himself awake out of a nightmare. But instead as he looked towards where Sebastian had been before next to his bed, the other boy was clearly shaking violently and while it was not very light, Kurt could see that he was biting his hand, trying to quieten the quickly escalating cries. He sounded so vulnerable, so alone and so like Kurt himself that for a split second Kurt thought he was dreaming. But after pinching himself lightly on the thigh and finding that he was still staring at the broken boy before him, Kurt could not contain the gasp that escaped him.

Sebastian lifted his head to stare at him directly and the moment their eyes met, Kurt could see Sebastian's eyes were full of tears and unlike the previous emotionless expressions, Kurt could see the unfiltered pain that seemed to take over Sebastian's entire face.

Another small sob from Sebastian broke the silence but Kurt kept staring, trying to figure out Sebastian and the reason why the other boy continued to stare back at him, with nothing to hide and no walls between them.


	4. Chapter 4

"Why are you crying?" The words came out of Kurt's mouth before he could stop them and he instantly wished he could take them back. What was he doing talking to the very person who was keeping him hostage? Sebastian's heavy sobs continued, his choked breaths filling the room just as Kurt's had the night before. When the seconds became minutes and Sebastian didn't answer, Kurt couldn't say he was surprised, after all, why would he answer?

They both continued to sit there, Sebastian still crying and seemingly oblivious to Kurt, who was still staring unabashedly at him. Sebastian's entire body was shaking; even his hands were trembling as they clawed at his own face as if he could erase whatever it was that had affected him so much. Kurt was surprised at how easily he was able to read Sebastian's body language, and the realisation that Sebastian was acting as if he were as trapped as Kurt was completely unnerving.

And then without warning, Sebastian spoke.

"I'm-" He whispered so quietly that Kurt barely heard him. "I'm sorry."

Kurt stared in shock at the other boy, wondering if he was mistaken in thinking that Sebastian was addressing him. Sebastian didn't move his hands from where they were covering his face but he spoke again, louder this time and more desperate.

"I'm sorry," he repeated again, his voice burning with a heavy emotion that Kurt couldn't place. "I'm so sorry."

There was no mistaking it that time, Sebastian was definitely talking to him and the shock at that realisation wiped any previous assumption of Sebastian in Kurt.

"You're sorry?" Kurt asked, hating how confused and weak he sounded.

At first, Kurt thought that Sebastian wouldn't answer but only a few seconds passed before Sebastian spoke again, lower this time and less frantic.

"T-treating you this way," he was obviously trying to keep the shaking in his voice under control. "It's so inhumane, it's sick. It's not fair and nothing can j-justify it." Sebastian took a deep breath. "And I'm a part of it all and god what am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?"

Kurt remained silent.

Sebastian's words had rendered him speechless and unable to really process what they could mean. His head was abuzz with intense feelings of confusion and dominantly one single thought, who was Sebastian? He couldn't be James Smythe's son, not if he was reacting like this. The Smythe family was heartless, everybody knew that. Someone in the Smythe family wouldn't let themselves be this vulnerable, let alone let another person witness it.

Kurt inhaled deeply, unable to stop the sounds of Sebastian's now quiet sobs from invading his ears.

"Who are you?" he whispered and Sebastian only turned his head away in response, a quiet whimper leaving his lips.

Kurt sighed at the not wholly surprising gesture and without really a reason to, continued to stare at Sebastian. He was still shaking but no more sounds escaped him except for the shaky breaths he took every few seconds, a constant reminder of his presence in the empty room.

He had looked so helpless; Kurt had been able to tell what he'd been feeling. And the similarity to his own feelings scared him, made him question everything he had known or thought he'd known about the situation.

But Sebastian had also looked terrified, not how Kurt was terrified of the guard but instead like he was terrified of himself. As if he couldn't bear to live with himself, as if he wanted to claw his way out of his body. And it scared Kurt.

It scared him that the situation was much less black and white than before, it scared him that he should have been angry but didn't know how to be angry when he didn't know anything. Could Sebastian really mean what he said? And if he did why was still here?

Kurt studied the other boy's form, slumped up against the wall and breathing steadier than before. It was too much, too much on top of everything else, Kurt's head throbbed painfully, a reminder of what had happened only hours before and the pain was enough of a reminder that Kurt needed to sleep.

He gently eased himself back into his sleeping position, only making sure that he was facing Sebastian. He didn't know why he did it but it was almost like he didn't want to miss anything that Sebastian might do.

He fell asleep to the quiet rhythm of Sebastian's breathing.

*******

"So he was crying?" Piper asks, leaning in infinitesimally.

"Yes," he says blankly, trying his best not to think back to that moment again. While it had been particularly painful when it was actually happening, now even just the memory causes him to feel lightheaded with anguish.

He had done nothing and now he could never change that, never change that he let himself fall asleep.

"When you saw him like that," Piper begins and his stomach twists. "Did you feel….sympathetic?"

The interview has been going for so long, the questions and answers all blurring together already when they're barely half way through.

"I was…curious."

It's the truth and yet it feels as if a knife is being twisted in his gut and he has to bite his lip from making a sound.

"Curious?" he voice lilts and she gestures with her well-manicured hands for him to continue.

"Curious, it means unduly inquisitive." That's what he would have said a year ago but he has lost his snark, lost his biting sarcasm and he simply cannot be bothered.

Instead he says, "I didn't understand it, even though it had only been a few days I expected them to be all the same and it shocked me that he wasn't."

"Wasn't what?" she asks and he knows it purely for dramatic effect.

"He wasn't the same as the rest of them, as the guard."

"But Kurt," she widens her eyes and her tone is sympathetic in a pitying way. "He was the same."

The urge to protect flares inside him and he has to clench his fists to stop from swinging them.

"He…. He really wasn't."

*******

Kurt woke up slowly, shifting on the mattress as his eyes fluttered open. He could not remember if he had dreamt at all and for that he was grateful. He continued to lie there, eyes half closed and his head still foggy with sleep, that was until he focused on where he was looking and he noticed that Sebastian was leaning against the wall, head away from Kurt.

"Ah!" He let out a strangled cry and sat bolt upright as the memory of Sebastian's breakdown resurfaced.

He whipped his head to the side to see that despite Kurt's outburst Sebastian was still not looking at him. In the dim light Kurt could vaguely see the puffiness of Sebastian's eyes and also the way his hair stood out in different directions as a direct result of his hands clawing through it.

Kurt continued to breathe heavily, unsure of what to do. If it weren't for the physical evidence of what had happened Kurt would have sworn it was a dream. The raw intensity with which the other boy had cried out was disconcerting and his words even more so. He didn't need this extra complication, his own pain and that of his father's was already a heavy enough burden and yet here was a stranger, the very person who was keeping him locked up, begging for forgiveness? Kurt wasn't stupid, he knew very well that it could be a trap to lull him into a false sense of security but it was hard to ignore the way the boy's pleas echoed in Kurt's mind, and the ferocity with which he had condemned himself had him think that maybe he had been telling the truth. But really, Kurt supposed that despite the fact that Sebastian had directly addressed him, the words hadn't been for his benefit nor had they been directed at him.

Kurt shook his head to himself when he realised that he was still staring but it was so hard to look away. In a way it was almost a distraction, a selfish way of avoiding his own situation. Focusing on another's pain instead of his own.

Kurt moved gingerly off of the mattress, conscious of the fact that while the pain in his head was merely a distant ache it could very easily flare up if it was jolted. It reminded him of McKinley and the days when he was pushed into lockers and slushied, back then he had referred to it in his mind as "hell on earth" and the naivety of it made him want to laugh at the bitter irony. He'd had possibility, he'd had plans and dreams but looking into the future now, all he could see were two options.

Getting out alive.

Or not getting out at all.

Ten minutes later Kurt re-entered the room, face still wet from when he had tried in vain to clean himself with only soap and water. For one second Kurt had wished for a shower and maybe a towel but the stupidity of wanting such luxurious and material things when he wasn't even sure if he would ever live to see his father again had made him flush with shame.

It was hard not to be selfish when you were completely alone, it was hard to focus on anything that didn't affect him and Kurt couldn't or maybe didn't want to change it.

And seeing Sebastian, still leaning against the wall and looking at the door made him curious in an almost morbid way. To flesh out the other boy, to try and figure him out and who he was would be so easy to try, a way of not only distracting himself but also a way of giving Kurt a purpose. Kurt immediately rejected the idea, feeling sick at the idea of using another person .

But that's exactly what they're doing to you.

He ignored the little voice in the back of his head, clenching his hands into fists as he made his way over to the mattress. Instead of sitting with his back to the wall adjacent to Sebastian, Kurt decided to sit cross-legged at the end, still facing Sebastian but a good metre away.

He didn't want to be this scared, this vulnerable. He wanted false bravado, he wanted brazen confidence but all he could find was helpless acceptance that it could only get worse.

He studied his hands, counting the lines on his palms while trying to keep his breathing even. He was hungry of course, not to mention thirsty but he doubted very much that food and water would be a regular occurrence and the idea made him shiver.

He did not want to die slowly.

He did not want to die at all.

He choked back a sob and continued to breathe in and out, counting his breaths inside his head.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

At five hundred and three Sebastian stood up but Kurt kept counting, forcing himself to not to look up as he heard the other boy make his way to the exit and leave, shutting the door heavily behind him.

Kurt felt himself relax immediately, unaware that he had been so tense. He crawled up the mattress, stifling a groan at the stretch in his muscles. He leaned against the wall, arching his back in an effort to ease the knot in his spine. He did not know how long he had been sitting hunched over like that but it had been long enough, too long maybe, but in this space where time was limitless it hardly seemed logical to measure it.

At the sound of the door being opened, Kurt was seized by the fear that it was the guard coming in with perhaps another syringe but instead Sebastian entered, carrying a tray with the same amount of rice and water as before.

Kurt felt his heartbeat slow down a small bit and his stomach rumbled at the sight of food. He tried to not look too eager as Sebastian set the tray at the end of the mattress, still averting his eyes.

He didn't have the strength to abstain from the food though and when Sebastian had resumed his spot on the floor, Kurt immediately went for the tray. The distraction of food was more than enough and for the next five minutes Kurt was able to focus only the relief he felt at getting food and also of the relief of the water against his cracked lips.

He was finished much too soon though, despite having drunk the entire bottle of water this time. He had also meticulously limited his mouthfuls to the size of a teaspoon and it was because of that that Kurt did not realise until he had placed the water bottle on the tray and turned his head that Sebastian had been and was still staring at him.

This time Kurt did not make any exclamation at all, instead he silently regarded the other boy. Sebastian was not looking at him desolately like he had before, nor was he hiding behind a mask of cold indifference. Instead he was staring at Kurt with an openness that astounded him. But he did not have time to decipher Sebastian because upon realising that Sebastian was looking at him, Kurt had instinctively twisted his whole body around to face the other boy, effectively notifying Sebastian of Kurt's awareness.

Sebastian's face immediately tightened, eyes narrowing and Kurt could see that Sebastian was both physically and mentally closing in on himself. When Sebastian opened his mouth, Kurt's mouth fell open but the shock of hearing him speak was immediately forgotten by Kurt over the cold, harsh tone of his voice.

"Stop staring, gayface."

The words ricocheted inside Kurt's head and memories of Karofsky, of tall, hulking football players towering over him and of the endless stream of taunts that had always followed him, even despite his father's congressman status, invaded his senses. He felt his face go pale and he forced himself to look at the other boy despite the tears clinging to his eyelashes. He hadn't expected it to come up here, hadn't expected it to follow him wherever he went but here it was again, he couldn't escape the mockery of his sexuality and who he was.

Expecting to see hatred in the other boy's face, Kurt was surprised to see that Sebastian looked horrified and was staring at Kurt with wide eyes.

"I-" Sebastian began, an unmistakeable tremor in his voice as he spoke. "I-god- I'm sorry."

Kurt continued to stare, his hurt morphing into confusion at the other boy's rapidly crumbling composure.

"That's not me," Sebastian finally finished, the conviction in his voice strong. "I, I wasn't thinking, I was just, I was, I'm just me and I'm just so… Look, I'm sorry."

The strangeness of what the boy was saying and what he had already said was gradually building up the intensity of Kurt's confusion. And not just the confusion about Sebastian's true character but also about his part in Kurt's own fate and Sebastian's role in the vicious Smythe family. So Kurt wasn't going to accept that apology.

He would never give them anything, not when they had taken almost everything.

So instead he nodded, keeping his eyes unyielding as he kept them on Sebastian. He was admittedly a little less tense at Sebastian's garbled apology and Sebastian's vulnerable stance on the floor had made him feel infinitesimally more in control. Kurt knew without a doubt that if he were to attack Sebastian in that moment he would win, the few self-defence lessons he had taken would ensure that, especially combined with the way Sebastian was sitting, almost completely defenceless with his arms wringing uselessly at his sides. But outside of that room he wouldn't last two seconds, the guard he knew that waited outside was more than capable of taking Kurt out and who knew what lay outside of there? No, Kurt was stuck here and he couldn't even try because they would kill him if he did or perhaps even worse, they would drug him so that he wouldn't wake up, forever stuck in a haze he couldn't escape.

He wanted to feel his pain, not drown in fog.

"I'm not homophobic", came Sebastian's voice quietly, interrupting Kurt's thoughts and Kurt startled a little. "Really, I'm not."

Kurt had heard that one before, he'd heard friends, school mates and even teachers say that and it was always followed by a "but…".

"But the idea of two guys holding hands just grosses me out."

"But I just don't think that you should come out, maybe you could date a girl?"

"But I just don't think it's appropriate for you to be in a relationship this young, it's different for gay people."

Kurt braced himself for the obvious continuation of Sebastian's statement, thinking that perhaps he was similar to Finn, able to move past it but never completely accept it, but it never came. And Kurt's relief was tinged with the strange feeling that had been on the edge of his consciousness ever since Sebastian's cries had woken him, the feeling that he shouldn't have been acknowledging Sebastian's presence, even in his mind.

"That would be ironic…" Sebastian said and Kurt stared in confusion, wondering if perhaps he had missed something. Seeing Kurt's expression, Sebastian's expression turned unreadable.

"I'm, uh, I'm actually gay too."

Kurt's blood ran cold.


	5. Chapter 5

Before he could even register he was doing it, Kurt flung himself away from Sebastian, his only conscious thought to get away. Sebastian's eyes widened as Kurt did so but Kurt barely noticed.

His back crashed against the wall and he scrambled alongside it, heart thumping erratically and his breathing coming in short bursts as he half fell off the end of the mattress, tray tipping off the edge as Kurt scrambled to his feet. He could see Sebastian stand up, the sight of his full height making Kurt feel sick to his stomach.

Oh no, no no no.

He wasn't stupid, he'd heard the stories about children and teenagers being raped by their captors, being made to take constant abuse and live in terror but he had thought because of his gender he was safe.

They had done it, he had foolishly held onto the belief that he was safe from some things and they had lured him in only to take everything. He couldn't believe he had been so naive and he was paying the price.

He had unwittingly backed himself into a corner and, pressing his body inwards, he forced his eyes to look at Sebastian who was still standing where he was, looking at Kurt with stunned realisation.

"No," he uttered and Kurt shrunk back at the intensity of his gaze. "Oh god no, I would never do that."

But everything sounded false to Kurt's ears and instead of really processing Sebastian's words all he could hear were the television interviews with previous hostages.

"I was powerless to stop it."

"There was nothing I could do."

"I was broken."

"Please don't," he pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "Please, please, please."

"I would never," Sebastian said, sounding as wrecked as Kurt did and that was what caught Kurt's attention. "You have to believe me, I would never. I promise."

Kurt wanted to laugh bitterly at the irony of his captor promising such a thing but nothing came out and instead he focused on Sebastian.

The other boy was leaning against the wall, his eyes blown wide with what looked like terror and his hands above his head in the gesture of surrender.

Kurt's thoughts must have been made plain on his face because Sebastian's face softened immediately.

"I would never do that to a person," he said. "Because you're a person, Kurt."

Kurt froze in shock. It was the first time Sebastian had called him by his name.

"I'm going to sit outside now and after you've slept or when you want more food, knock on the door and I'll bring it to you, okay?"

Kurt could only stare at Sebastian, something he realised he was doing a lot of. His heart was still beating quickly and the whooshing noise in his head made it almost impossible to think.

Sebastian took his silence as affirmation and after giving Kurt one last look filled with a heady mix of shame and self-hatred, made his way to the door slowly, not looking back.

As soon as he left Kurt slumped to the floor, breathing in deeply. He would understand this later, but for now he was just so tired.

And so he sat there, for three hours, waiting for sleep to overtake him. And mercifully he eventually fell asleep with Sebastian's words reverberating in his head.

"You're a person, Kurt."

*******

He is unable to stop himself from tearing up at that memory, it means so much even after all that has happened. Piper is looking at him solemnly, eyes focused on how he is biting his lip to stop the sob that is climbing its way out of his throat.

"Kurt," she says and he can immediately tell what she is going to ask. Her tone is serious but also gentle, as if she is trying to make the question easier for him.

"At any point during your time there, did any of the men responsible for your kidnapping touch you inappropriately?"

Detachedly, Kurt wonders how his Dad is doing in the wings. Burt Hummel had accompanied him everywhere, waiting outside after every questioning, every therapy session and the one time Burt himself had asked Kurt that question, Kurt had seen his father's face crumple, only for relief to take over when Kurt was able to answer with a 'no'.

"No" he says simply to Piper and she nods, a strange mix of relief and concentration etched on her face.

It's the truth but if the truth was different he still would have said no, he would have lied. Maybe not to his therapist or the police but to reveal something so shameful and private on national television and to break his father's heart would have been unbearable.

"Have you always been gay?"

Kurt's jaw clenches but thankfully Piper immediately realises her mistake and she backpedals.

"I'm sorry," she says hastily. "I meant, how long have you been aware of your sexuality?"

His sexuality has never really been a secret. While Burt Hummel had never addressed the fact that he had a gay son, the few pictures that had been in the local tabloids prior to the incident were pretty self-explanatory of Kurt's sexuality.

"Pretty much since I hit puberty," Kurt says, keeping his tone brusque to hide the tremor in his voice. "I came out when I was 15."

"Mmh, okay…" Piper Ray pauses and Kurt wonders if she is perhaps a radical Republican, which would certainly be ironic. "Have you ever dated anyone?"

It's a question so packed with loneliness that it almost takes his breath away. He remembers daydreaming about his perfect man taking him away from Ohio while sitting in school and not for the first time he wants to slap his former self for such a selfish and unrealistic wish. He had thought he was lonely, but what loneliness truly meant was sitting in a crowded room in the spotlight while your life was laid bare for everyone to see.

"No, I haven't," he says, careful to keep his tone blank. The urge to snap at Piper is strong and this question feels so unnecessary and weirdly personal, as if the previous ones hadn't been.

"And why not?"

There is no accusation in Pipers voice whatsoever but the words still cut through enough to cause a response.

"I lived in Ohio," he says, his tone sharp and unforgiving. "There was literally no opportunity at all. I was alone."

"And now?" The question seems to slip out of Piper's mouth apparently before she can stop it and she stares at Kurt, her eyes wide with what looks like chagrin. He refuses to let her words get to him; this is an interview, not therapy.

"Next question."

*******

Kurt had slept fitfully and the sound of the heavy door being unlocked and opened was more than enough to wake him. He shifted slightly as he opened his eyes so that he was able to see who had entered. It was Sebastian of course, and despite the fact that he was standing more than a few feet away, his presence still caused a thrill of unease to run though Kurt.

Sebastian was holding the customary tray of food but unlike the other times he continued to stand at the door, expression patient. Kurt, immediately understanding the meaning behind the gesture, sat up and nodded carefully.

Sebastian's expression didn't change as he made his way over the end of the mattress and laid the tray down. But when he had done so, he lifted his head to look Kurt straight in the eye.

"I have to stay in here," he said and his tone reminded Kurt of the way one would approach a wounded animal. "I'll sit over there so you don't feel uncomfortable." Sebastian gestured towards the door and Kurt's heart contracted a little at the niceness of the gesture.

It was stupid to think that this boy wouldn't hurt him, especially considering the circumstances, but everything that Sebastian had said or done completely contradicted what was happening and Kurt couldn't help but wonder. But he would let Sebastian sit further away; he didn't know what else to do.

"Thank you," Kurt said quietly. He owed Sebastian that much.

"Don't thank me," Sebastian said and for a moment his guard dropped entirely, face twisting in a mixture of sadness and bitterness.

Kurt bit his lip hard to stop himself from saying something. It wasn't his place to say anything; there was nothing he could do to help. He didn't know who Sebastian was and why he was doing this. He didn't know why he had brought Kurt food and why he let Kurt see him cry.

As Sebastian moved over to the door, Kurt was struck by a new feeling of helplessness. It was unlike the constant vulnerability and the way he was powerless to stop what was already in motion, instead it felt as if there was something he should know but didn't. He was missing something crucial about this situation and while he didn't want to acknowledge it, he knew it was Sebastian. Something wasn't quite right.

Kurt ate slowly, not really focusing on the taste of the slightly stale bread and instead resisting the urge to stare at Sebastian who was sitting crouched by the door, head down. All too soon he was finished and Kurt placed the tray on the floor, careful not to let his gaze slip and moved back up the mattress. As the minutes slid by, he found himself almost regretting letting Sebastian sit where he was. It would be impossible for Kurt to look at Sebastian without him realising and while Kurt was still morbidly curious about him, Sebastian could only occupy his brain for so long and it wasn't long till his mind drifted.

The first time he had sung a solo in Glee was one of his happiest memories. The adrenaline that had rushed through him at performing with everyone's attention on him had stayed with him long after he had finished and taken his seat. He had spent the whole day in a happy daze, nothing could bring him down, not Karofsky, not Rachel Berry's atrocious sweaters and not even when he had come home to see his father packing for an unexpected trip to Washington had his good mood slipped. He had told his Dad to have a good time and Burt had been off. But the happiness had barely lasted 24 hours because the next morning, Kurt had woken up to a phone call from a hospital in DC telling him that his father had suffered a heart attack and was in a coma.

He hadn't even been allowed to go to the airport immediately; numerous security procedures and protocols that he barely understood had to be done before he could even leave the house. The three hours of waiting he'd endured had been the worst three hours of his life, his dad was so far away and Kurt had been powerless to do anything but wait. And Kurt would bet his life that right now, his Dad was feeling exactly the same as himself all those years ago, except on a more frightening scale.

Kurt felt his breathing speed up and he immediately recognised the feeling of panic from before when he had completely lost his cool. Not wanting another repeat he did the first thing he could think of.

"Who are you?" His voice did not shake as he spoke and for that Kurt was grateful. It was the second time he had asked this question and he wondered if this time he would get an answer.

Sebastian's head snapped up at Kurt's words and he seemed genuinely shocked. Not suspicious or cruel, just surprised.

"Sebastian Smythe." He spoke almost without emotion, and if it weren't for the way his voice cracked in the middle Kurt would have thought that Sebastian was completely unaffected.

"You're his son," Kurt said, his voice betraying the surprise he felt. So he was part of the Smythe family, what was he doing guarding Kurt?

"Yes," Sebastian looked away, his jaw tightening and he did not speak again.

Kurt sighed quietly and continued to stare despite the fact that the conversation, if you could call it that, had stopped. Sebastian was still looking away but Kurt could see on closer inspection that his hands were trembling. He was suddenly struck by how skinny Sebastian was. He was tall but even for his size his arms and wrists looked undeniably fragile.

"When will I be let out?" Kurt asked, not sure if he was going to get an answer or what he was doing at all.

"They'll let you out when they get what they want," Sebastian said, finally looking at Kurt.

"What do they want?" Kurt whispered, unnerved by the way Sebastian was looking at him as if Kurt held the answer to some question.

"Money," Sebastian replied shortly. "Lots of it."

"How much?" Kurt asked nervously.

Sebastian paused but eventually he spoke. "One million, by Wednesday."

"What day-" But Kurt was interrupted by a banging on the door that Sebastian was leaning against.

Sebastian's eyes went wide and it was the sheer terror in his eyes that made Kurt understand who was behind the door.

Sebastian scrambled away from the door to his feet and Kurt heard the sound of the key being turned inside the lock. He was still on the mattress, flattened against the wall while he tried not to hyperventilate. Sebastian was standing tall now, directly between the door and Kurt and if he had not been so focused on what was to come Kurt probably would have been shocked, but all he could muster was a pitiful whimper when the door was wrenched open.

"What's up?" Sebastian asked the man who was standing in the doorway, video camera in hand and a grin on his face. Sebastian's tone was arrogant, completely unlike what it had been a minute ago.

"They want a video, said they won't give the money till they got proof." The man looked past Sebastian and smiled at Kurt with an amused laugh. "Come on kid, it's show time."

Kurt's stomach twisted and he remained still, unsure of what to do. Part of him wanted to be relieved that there was a possibility that he was going to get out sooner rather than later, but the video camera in the man's hand seemed almost more threatening than the person holding it. He didn't want his father to see him like this, he felt pathetic.

But the man's expression made it clear that 'no' was not going to be an option and Kurt, biting back a sob, nodded stiffly in consent.

"Good boy," the man said and Kurt felt bile rise at the back of his throat. "Now stand up and go stand in front of the wall."

Kurt rose mechanically and made his way over to where the man had pointed and from the corner of his eye he could see Sebastian looking about sick as Kurt felt.

Kurt turned to face the two of them and the intensity of their combined stares made his skin prickle.

Before Kurt could react the man was abruptly up in Kurt's personal space, crowding against Kurt so that he could feel the man's breath in his ear.

"You step one toe out of line and I will kill you." The words were said with the utmost sincerity and Kurt choked on his own breath at the feel of a gun pressing at his hip.

"I won't," he promised shakily, careful to keep his eyes averted.

"You-" The man began to speak again but he was cut off by Sebastian.

"Brendan," He warned and Kurt's stomach twisted at the name. "Back off, we need the tape." From where Kurt was standing he could see that Sebastian practically had to force the words out of his mouth, grimacing as if he was swallowing something sour.

Brendan immediately released Kurt and Kurt almost sobbed with relief but the man's warning and also the purpose of the tape made him clench his teeth together and focus on a spot on the wall across from him.

"Alright," Brendan stood a few metres away from Kurt, adjusting the video camera as he spoke. "Basically you're gonna say hello." He grinned and continued. "And that you're doing fine and your daddy desperately needs to give us the money or we will kill you."

Kurt's stomach churned at the words and it took all his strength not to shy away from the way the man was baring his teeth at him.

"Oh and also," Brendan spoke again and Kurt's eyes widened in dread. "Tell them you're scared." Kurt winced and Brendan turned to Sebastian. "Might be good to use some emotional shit, you're going to need to know that, Seb."

Sebastian remained impassive at the statement and it wasn't until Brendan turned to face Kurt that Sebastian's face drained of colour.

"1…2… 3…" Brendan softly and Kurt realised that the small camera was now trained on him.

"Go."

Kurt swallowed and seeing the menacing stare Brendan was giving him, began to speak hastily.

"Hi, Dad," he tried to keep the tears out of his voice. "I'm doing… I'm doing okay. But you need to give them the money, Dad, you have to or they'll kill me."

Brendan nodded pointedly and Kurt forced himself to speak again, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

"And I'm scared, I'm so scared."

The words seem to unlock something inside of him, they were true, he was scared and all he wanted was to be back home. He felt his knees buckle but he didn't fall, still conscious of the fact that Brendan was still in the room.

"Good," Brendan said but Kurt barely heard him, too consumed with the acute pain of missing his father. "Seb, you look after him, I'll drive this to HQ."

He was brought out of his despair that he could feel gradually developing into hysteria by the sound of the door slamming shut. He looked up to see Sebastian standing by the door, eyes so full of sadness that Kurt couldn't bear it. Sebastian had no right to be sad, he wasn't being treated like an animal and he hadn't been taken from his home, he knew nothing.

"Stop that," Kurt spat at him, the anger inside him building quickly. "Stop looking as if this is you, as if this is you hurting, because you're not."

Sebastian looked surprised at Kurt's words and he remained absolutely frozen.

"I am alone and trapped and you just stand there," Kurt began to step towards Sebastian, his mind devoid of coherent thought and instead filled with a red haze of anger. "You don't do anything, how can you live with yourself?!"

Kurt was shaking and violent sobs were making their way out of him silently. He felt like he was breaking in two. He had reached Sebastian who was still staring at Kurt except that now his face was awash with guilt and Kurt couldn't take it.

"Why do you look so guilty?" Kurt cried and without thinking about it he swung his arm back, his only thought to hurt this boy as much as he had hurt Kurt. But with a speed Kurt didn't know was possible Sebastian had grabbed Kurt's arm just before it slammed into his face and when Kurt swung the other back, screaming hysterically as he did so, Sebastian did the same time, gripping Kurt's wrists tightly.

"You don't understand!" Kurt screamed, thrashing uncontrollably in the other boys tight grip. His head throbbed and his face was wet with tears. "You don't understand what this is like! You haven't had this done to you!"

And without warning Sebastian was shaking, choked sobs escaping him. "But I have, and, oh god, I'm so sorry."


	6. Chapter 6

Sebastian's POV

"But I have, and, oh god, I'm so sorry."

He had actually done it, said those horrible words out loud and now there was nothing to stop him from falling apart. The sobs that seemed to rip their way out of Sebastian's chest filled the silence in the room and through the tears that blurred his vision, Sebastian watched as the anger in Kurt's eyes dissolved for the moment, giving way to intense curiosity.

"What-what did you say?" Kurt's voice was hoarse and his eyes were fixed on Sebastian so intently that Sebastian found that he was unable to speak, too focused on breathing steadily. Kurt spoke again. "What did you say?"

"I said I know," Sebastian said fiercely, releasing his hold on Kurt's arms and stepping back so he could wrap his arms around himself, feeling more vulnerable every passing second. "I know how this feels for you and that's what makes it so terrible, I just can't…"

Sebastian felt tears make their way down his cheeks as he spoke but he did nothing to wipe them away. He was still shaking and had he been somewhere different, a different time and a different universe, he probably would have been embarrassed at the way his legs were visibly knocking together. All he could muster was an empty feeling tinged with self-loathing, and as he stared into the eyes of his worst ever betrayal, the feeling only grew until it began to suffocate him.

He didn't realise he had been mumbling strange, garbled apologies until Kurt spoke unexpectedly.

"Stop." His tone was commanding and Sebastian felt shock at hearing Kurt's voice, a voice that Sebastian had only ever heard angry or desolate, but that was now completely in control. It rendered him unable to do anything other than obey and he immediately cut off his rambling.

He was still crying though, it seemed endless. All the self-hatred, all the pain and all the pressure of the last few days had built up and now it all came out along with years of bitter resentment and loneliness and he didn't think it could stop.

He didn't look away from Kurt though, didn't break their interlocked gazes; it is a terrible thing to owe someone more than you can give and to look away would only take something else from Kurt. So Sebastian continued to stare, vision blurred by tears and distorted by his body's trembling, but he was still standing.

"Sit." Kurt's facial expression was unreadable as was the tone of his voice and Sebastian could not for the life of him figure out what he was thinking. He could only hope that Kurt would blame him and then leave him be, leave him to wallow in his own misery.

He took a few steps on instinct but stopped when he realised that he didn't know what to do or more importantly what Kurt Hummel wanted.

And what happened next shocked him to the core, made his heart race and made a deep shudder pass through him.

Kurt was touching him.

It was just a light press of the fingertips against his back to urge him on towards the wall but it meant everything. He barely registered reaching the wall and sliding against it into a sitting position, legs spread out in front of him; instead all he could focus on was the swirling mess of thoughts inside his head.

How could Kurt touch him after all that he had done? Why would he want Sebastian anywhere near him when he was such a monster? Nothing Sebastian could say or do would ever be able to make up for what he had already done and yet here was Kurt, still unbroken. But he was crumbling. Sebastian could see it in his eyes, in the way they now flashed with submission whenever Brendan addressed Kurt, instead of sparkling in anger.

Sebastian was so entrenched in his own mind that he didn't realise that Kurt had sat down next to him until he spoke.

"Explain."

Sebastian remained silent, he knew what Kurt was asking but he didn't want do anything more to ruin the other boy, as whatever he said would condemn him further and Kurt would understand the depth of Sebastian's treachery.

"Explain," Kurt said again, his voice firmer and demanding answers. "Tell me what happened."

Sebastian coughed, trying in vain to clear his throat as he accepted that no matter what he did now, any meagre shred of self-respect or dignity that could be lurking inside him would be gone.

"When I was a kid," he began, voice rough. "I lived in Paris with my mother until I was almost 13 years old."

*******

Sebastian Smythe took his satchel off the doorknob of his small bedroom, careful not to trip on any of the magazines or clothes scattered on the floor. It had been too busy a weekend for any chance of him cleaning his room and while he could have woken up early to clean, he had instead simply shoved the larger items into his wardrobe and gotten ready as normal. Walking down the small hallway to the kitchen, he inhaled appreciatively. His Maman had obviously woken up early to pick up a fresh loaf of bread from the bakery and he could smell it along with the pot of coffee that she brewed every morning.

"Maman?" he called out as he neared the door, wondering if perhaps she had already left for work or if she had the morning off. The latter sounded far more appealing, if Sebastian had the house to himself that evening it would be an ample opportunity to invite Christophe so that they could hang out without anyone watching. He blushed slightly at the thought of Christophe's pale hands and soft brown eyes, already feeling his stomach flutter with nerves.

"Good morning, 'Bastian!" his mother's voice came from the kitchen, and rounding the corner Sebastian saw that she was sitting at their small kitchen table by the window, reading the paper.

"Maman, bonjou-"

"No, no!" His mother chastised him as she stood up. "English, please."

He rolled his eyes as she walked past him towards the coffee pot, stopping briefly to press a kiss to his cheek.

She had always insisted they speak English around the house; he was fluent in both and had been since was a child, but had never quite understood why his mother, a French woman, would put such emphasis on learning English. At school they would only spend a few hours a week on it and he was the only one in his entire class including the teacher who was able to speak it properly. He preferred English because, while he would never admit it to anyone, it was almost like his and his mother's secret, something only they shared. His mother was all he had, he had never known his father, but he assumed that he had been English or American. The small knowledge he had of his mother's past was that she had lived in America for 5 years before returning to France to have Sebastian, but he knew nothing more. The only time he had ever seen his mother cry was when as an 8 year old he had asked about his father and even then he hadn't gotten a proper answer, she had simply burst into tears and Sebastian learnt to never ask again.

"Fine, fine." He walked over to counter, dropping satchel on the floor. "You brought bread? Where is it?"

"Manners, Sebastian!" His mother reminded him, pouring coffee into two mugs. "It's warming in the oven."

"Sorry," Sebastian grinned. "Thank you."

He opened the oven and carefully took out the tray, the metal only a few degrees away from being too hot.

"You need to work on being polite," his mother leaned against the counter, sipping on her coffee. "How do you expect to woo girls if you cannot even be nice?"

"I can be nice," Sebastian said, faking a smile as he tore off a chunk of bread from the loaf. He had not yet told his mother how it felt to have Christophe's lips on his, how he felt his heart quicken every time an older boy would brush past him in the corridors.

"You can," she conceded, smiling fondly at him and he felt his stomach lurch with guilt that he hadn't told her something; they usually told each other everything. "But there is a difference between nice and charming, remember that."

"I will," he smirked, reaching for the small mug of coffee and draining it in two large mouthfuls. "I have to go, I'll see you tonight?"

"I have to work," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, perhaps you could invite a friend over?"

"Maybe." Sebastian shrugged but he could feel a grin threatening its way onto his face. "I will see you tomorrow afternoon then?"

"Yes, we can go eat dinner at Marie's when you come back from school, if you'd like?" His mother smiled hopefully at him and he grinned.

"Of course," he said. "But you're paying."

She laughed loudly. "Manners! Goodbye 'Bastian, you will be late!"

"See you later! Je t'aime!" he called as he made his way out of the kitchen, already reaching inside his pocket to text Christophe the details about later that night. Exiting their apartment, Sebastian trampled down the stairs, waving to Monsieur Avery as he rocketed past the old man and ignoring the exclamation of "Sebastian! SLOW DOWN!"

Even though it was not yet 8 o'clock, the street outside was already busy with children yelling, pedestrians and bicycles going past on the footpaths and the occasional car driving through. Sebastian almost wished he could ditch, perhaps go to the pictures instead or spend the day wandering about the city, keeping an eye out for good-looking boys.

But if his mother found out, and she inevitably would, he would not be allowed to invite Christophe over and not being able to see Christophe for at least two weeks would not be worth anything he would do in one day.

So he began to walk the familiar way to school, wishing that his bike did not have a flat tire. It took twice as long to walk and it was twice as boring when he walked and while the crowded, bustling streets had once been enthralling and exciting, the familiarity of it all had long since dulled any interest he'd once had. The sun was getting higher and higher up in the sky as he walked and by the time he was only a few minutes away from the school his shirt was clinging tightly to him and he could feel small beads of perspiration making their way down his neck.

He smirked to himself, remembering the weekend when he had seen Christophe. The heat had been almost unbearable despite the fact that summer had only just begun, but that hadn't stopped them from running around playing football at the reserve around the corner from Christophe's house. When they had finally run out of steam, they had collapsed onto the grass together, their sweaty hands clasped tight. He found himself wishing that the day was already over; the idea of sitting through seven hours of school with the promise of Christophe going home with him hanging over his head was almost unbearable.

Sebastian was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realise that there was a person standing in front of him until his face collided with the man's chest. He fell back on himself and if it weren't for the man's tight grip on the tops of his arms he would have fallen flat on his rear.

"Pardon, Monsieur." Sebastian blushed heavily, he wasn't the type to go around bumping it to people, how embarrassing.

The man still hadn't let go of Sebastian's arms and twisting a little, Sebastian lifted his head and got a proper look at the man who despite the ever encroaching heat was wearing a heavy black coat and a wide brimmed cap that obscured most of his face.

"No worries, kid," The man said gruffly and Sebastian's eyes lifted in surprise at not only the use of English but also at the thick American accent. "Tell me, what's your name?"

"Sebastian…" He said slowly while he tried to wiggle his way out of the man's grasp. "Excuse me, sir, but can you let me go?"

"I'm sorry," the man said not sounding very sorry. "But you're going to have to come with me."

Sebastian's eyes widened but for the moment he did not say anything. He had heard the stories of course, about the boys and girls taken away from their families and he'd endured more than one safety lesson in class on the topic to know that he needed to get away.

The man was still watching him, eyes appraising as if he was waiting for Sebastian to do something.

Sebastian sighed, wondering why this had to happen to him and on this day of all days. Making a split decision he brought his hands up to the man's head, thankful that the man hadn't thought to restrain his wrists and attempted to bring the man's head down onto his upright knee. But just as he had grabbed a hold of the man's neck he was being pushed down into the small, empty side street with a hand covering his mouth. Sebastian, acting on instinct began to thrash his arms about, just trying to hit any part of his attacker he could all while he screamed and yelled behind the man's hand and his heart thumped in his chest so loudly he could hear it.

But then the press of something hard against his leg stopped everything.

The man had a gun.

Sebastian slumped immediately, his breathing increasing rapidly as the man stared down at him, his expression not threatening but businesslike.

"Now, Sebastian," he said, the gun still pressing against his leg. "We're going to get into that car over there and you're not going to make a fuss, understood?"

Sebastian stayed silent, unsure of whether he was actually meant to answer the question.

"Understood?" the man repeated and Sebastian nodded, in his mind frantically going over every safety lesson, every lecture given by his mother about this very situation, but he came up blank because he had never really listened, never imagined he would need it.

He kept silent as he was guided towards a black car with tinted windows that was ten or so metres away, the reality of the situation becoming increasingly clear. Where would they take him? Would he ever see his mother again? He thought of his mother sitting alone in their little apartment wondering where he was and he felt his stomach twist. She had no one but him.

He didn't protest as he was shoved into the backseat, the fear that seemed to be rushing through his entire body like electricity making it impossible for him to muster anything more than a whimper as the man climbed in after him and pressed the gun to Sebastian's hip. There was a driver in the front seat who didn't even turn around to look at Sebastian and as soon as the other man had gotten in, the doors locked with a click and they were driving in and out of various side streets, all of which Sebastian was unfamiliar with. The feeling of being alienated in his own city made his throat tighten and he had to bite his lip furiously from crying. He wanted so desperately to scream and yell, to do anything. But the gun's presence was so immediate that he could feel himself shrinking into the seat in an effort to get away from it.

"We can't let him see where we're going," the man with the gun spoke and Sebastian turned his head warily to see that he was speaking into a phone. "I'll give it to him now and he'll wake up when we're on the plane."

Sebastian felt his heart race in panic He didn't know what scared him more, what they were going to give him or where they would be taking him. He couldn't leave Paris, couldn't leave Christophe or his friends or his mother, oh god his mother.

He was unable to stop the choked sob from coming out and when the man with the gun who was still murmuring into his phone didn't even look towards him, Sebastian scrubbed furiously at the tears that were pouring down his cheeks.

"Okay," the man said into the phone and he turned to Sebastian who saw that he was holding a water bottle filled with clear liquid. "Sebastian, I want you to drink this, it will put you to sleep for a while. If you don't drink it, I will force you." He paused. " You take a step out of line, kid, and we'll pay your mother a visit."

Sebastian felt the blood leave his face.

"And if I'm good?" His voice shook.

"Then she stays safe," the man promised. "Now drink."

Sebastian took the bottle and, taking a shaky breath, held it to his lips. It only took three sips for the bottle to become too heavy in his hand. His body shut down slowly, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier until he had no choice but to close his eyes. Childishly, his last thought was that he wished that this was all a dream, that instead of waking up somewhere new he would wake up in his bed to fresh bread and coffee with his mother. But in seconds he forgot that he had even been wishing, falling deeply asleep with no idea where he'd be when he woke up.

Sebastian woke up slowly, first becoming aware of the constant rumbling of an engine and then as his eyes drifted open, of the bright light that seemed to be everywhere. Before he had even properly opened his eyes, Sebastian was assaulted by the memory of what had happened to trigger his sleep and he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. He wrenched his eyes open, ready to scream for help but his surroundings stopped him. He was in what looked like the first class cabin of an airplane and it was empty except for the same man with the gun who was sitting a few seats away. It took Sebastian a moment, but after looking down at himself he was surprised to see that he wasn't strapped to the chair or restrained.

"We didn't tie you up."

Sebastian turned to look at the man who was getting out of his seat, already thinking of ways to incapacitate him. He had to do something, if he could just get to someone else on the plane… But as he looked closer at the man he could see the gun sitting proudly on the man's belt.

"Exactly," the man said, grinning as he got closer to Sebastian. "And even if you could get rid of me, we're still flying, so you can't exactly escape."

"What do you want from me?" Sebastian tried in vain to sound more confident than he felt but it wasn't even worth trying, he could feel tears spring into his eyes and his voice shook terribly. "How long was I asleep?"

"Only a few hours." The man shrugged and Sebastian looked around.

"But… it still looks like early morning." The light streaming from the windows reminded him of what it looked outside his window when he woke up for school. He suddenly felt very alone and the longing of wanting to be back home seemed to double.

"We're flying to America, you're going to have to readjust your body clock."

America.

"But… My mother, I need to go back to my mother. Please let me go, please." Sebastian pleaded. "I need to go back, I can't go to America. What do you want from me?"

"You won't be needing you mother anymore, Sebastian," the man suddenly sounded almost friendly. "You're one of us now."

"Who are you?" Sebastian voice rose hysterically. "Take me back!"

"I'm really sorry, Sebastian." And the man seemed to mean it. But Sebastian didn't understand what he meant until the syringe was centimetres away from his arm.

"No!" Sebastian cried out, trying to push the man away from him. "Stop…"

And the next time he woke up he was lying on a bed with his father standing over him with no chance of ever going back.

*******

"And he told me everything, about how he and Maman had a one night stand and when she found out she was pregnant they got together. But then she, she, uh, found out about who he was so she ran back to France without telling him and he wasn't able to find her." Sebastian shuddered, thinking of the malicious way his father had spoken about Sebastian's mother and even now, any mention of her would cause a flash of anger to pass through him, he had never gotten over that betrayal.

"And did you see her again?" Kurt asked and it was the first he had spoken ever since Sebastian started talking and realised he couldn't stop. The words had poured out of him and Kurt had just listened.

"No." Sebastian's voice cracked and he bit his hand to stop from crying out. "I'm not allowed to see her, otherwise he'll kill her. I can barely remember what she looks like."

He heard Kurt suck in a breath. "Then what happened?"

"He kept me home schooled until I was 14 and then when he decided I was ready he enrolled me at some fancy private school. And I was such an idiot, I was almost able to forget everything, I was such a dick to everyone and I pretended as if nothing was wrong with me and everyone believed it." He had walked through the halls of Dalton as if he owned them, as if he was just another rich preppie with too much money and it had felt so good. "I never saw him while I was at Dalton and I almost believed that I would never see him."

"You never told anyone? You could have gone to the police…" Kurt sounded frustrated and Sebastian couldn't blame him.

"He would have killed her."

He still had nightmares about his mother, about her blood staining the apartment floor, her screams echoing in the empty rooms.

"I'm so sorry." Kurt said softly.

And the words broke Sebastian all over again. He felt himself fall apart, his whole body shook with the force of his sobs and it didn't sound like him. The sounds that ripped their way out of his mouth were animalistic and he couldn't hold on any longer.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Sebastian thought over and over again as he cried but he couldn't tell if he was saying it aloud.

"Shhh." Kurt whispered and for one scary moment Sebastian thought he was going to touch his hand and when Kurt didn't, he couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed.

When the minutes became hours he eventually fell asleep to Kurt's quiet breathing as he stayed beside Sebastian, and just before closing his eyes Sebastian could almost pretend that perhaps he wasn't alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt did not fall asleep when Sebastian did. In fact, he stayed up long past the time when Sebastian's breathing had evened out and his head had fallen against Kurt's shoulder. The weight of Sebastian against him should have had Kurt shaking in fear but instead he felt nothing but aching emptiness. But it wasn't the same pain that he felt every single second he was trapped, if anything it was worse. It was worse because it wasn't his pain he was feeling, it was Sebastian's. For Sebastian to have been taken from his home into the world of America's most notorious crime boss made Kurt's own experience pale in comparison. Kurt may have lost his own mother at a young age but he had always had his father; all Sebastian had was a murderer for a father and a mother who he could never see, a mother who would only suffer if Sebastian tried to contact her.

"He would have killed her."

It was obvious Sebastian was lost without his mother; the desperation that had been so evident in Sebastian's cries spoke volumes to Kurt. He had learnt to not miss his mother so much, he had lost her at such a young age that the things he missed were things like hot summer days spent outside drinking water out of china cups and more often than not, he wasn't able to recall his mother's face, only her blonde hair and the sharp smell of her perfume. But Sebastian still remembered his mother, was still hurting over losing her forever when she was only a plane trip away.

Kurt had known James Smythe was a monster capable of extreme cruelty but what he had done to Sebastian was beyond anything he had imagined. To do that to your own son, to the son you had never known and who wasn't even 13 yet, was heartless. Kurt had always held the assumption that in the world of the Smythe family they always took care of their own but it was evident that Sebastian's happiness was not a priority. Kurt was in over his head, that much was obvious, and he felt stupid, stupid for not being able to see what the world was actually like, for being so naïve as to have made assumptions, even after he had been taken from his home and his father.

He felt even guiltier still, for the thoughts that were whirling around his head.

He had been so alone locked in this room and he felt sick to his stomach with guilt at the realisation that he now felt less alone, that Sebastian's own situation made his more bearable. He felt so used and yet here he was using Sebastian by wanting more answers, more information and while he wasn't locked up like Kurt was, Sebastian was just as trapped, and to take advantage of that…

Eventually, when even the memory of Sebastian's desperate apologies could not keep his eyes open, Kurt fell asleep, leaning against the wall next to Sebastian and unsure of what would happen the next morning.

*******

"We have a copy of the tape that was sent to your father, would you mind if we showed it?" Piper asks hopefully and Kurt wants to throw something at her.

Would he mind?

Of course he minds, at the time the tape was made he was at his worst, hours away from falling apart at the seam and they want to show a tape of that? A tape that still makes his father cry?

But it's in the contract that his father's lawyer has drawn up; they are allowed to show the tape as long as they hold the few questions they are allowed to ask about his diagnosis until the end. He wishes he could delay the interview, stall for time to give him more time to prepare.

But he's had weeks to practise, to prepare and to anticipate his one and only television interview and by all accounts he should be ready. And the longer he puts it off, the more rumours will circulate, the more assumptions will be made.

"You can show it," he says, and he almost misses the tiny sigh of relief that comes from Piper. It's true that he could probably say no and most likely he won't be sued. No television company, no matter how ruthless, will sue the teenager who is broken beyond repair.

"Hi Dad."

Kurt is lost in thought that he doesn't realise they're playing the tape on the massive screen behind them until he hears his own voice.

"I'm doing… I'm doing okay. But you need to give them the money, Dad, you have to or they'll kill me."

It's horrible for him, watching the tape. But he knows it's not as horrible for him as it is for his Dad because his father sees Kurt alone in a dark room telling him he's scared.

But Kurt knows that he gets out, knows that this tape was one of the worst parts, that things got less terrible and he also knows that off camera, Sebastian was standing there watching him.

*******

Kurt woke up lying on the mattress and he could only assume that Sebastian had carried him there. And it didn't make him feel uneasy; it just made him feel confused. Sebastian was sitting against the wall with his eyes closed and there was already a tray of food at the foot of Kurt's bed. Kurt ate quickly, mind racing as he thought back to what Sebastian had told him. Sebastian was not asleep, his breathing was too erratic and Kurt noticed that every few seconds his hands would twitch as if he was reaching for something.

Kurt had so many questions, wanted so badly to know what had happened to Sebastian, and he didn't know why. Didn't know if it was because he was trying to distract himself from his own pain or if the strange connection he felt to the other boy wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

"Why are you here?"

The question slipped out before he could stop it and Kurt almost expected Sebastian to ignore it, to keep his eyes closed and to let Kurt wallow in his own curiosity.

But he didn't. Instead, he opened his eyes and met Kurt's gaze head-on.

"I already told you that," he said and Kurt winced.

"No," he said. "I mean, why are you here, guarding me? You're his son; shouldn't you be doing more important things?"

Again with the assumptions, Kurt thought and he wondered if he sounded as stupid to Sebastian if he did to himself.

"He wants me to learn the business," Sebastian said without emotion. "I need experience before I can do anything important."

"Oh." Kurt let the word hang in mid-air and after a few seconds, resigned himself to lying on the mattress, trying hard not to think.

"You can ask more questions if you want," Sebastian said and Kurt turned his head in surprise. "I owe you that much."

You don't owe me anything.

"Um, okay…" Kurt twisted so that he was facing Sebastian directly. "Wait. Aren't they filming us?"

Kurt had to know before he started asking questions. It was something that had been bothering him, what if they knew he was talking to Sebastian?

"No," Sebastian shook his head. "They can't have evidence of you being here."

"Oh," Kurt let that sink in for a bit. "Why did you never run away?"

"I did once," Sebastian admitted. "I had only been at my father's house for about a week and I was scared shitless." Sebastian laughed hollowly. "I didn't even plan it, not really. I just waited until the housekeeper was in the basement doing washing and the men surrounding the house were distracted and I just ran out the side gate."

"How far did you get?" Kurt asked, surprised at the depth of the information he was getting.

"I barely made it to the next street before they caught up with me," Sebastian looked away from Kurt. "After that, my father kept me confined to my rooms for two months and I never tried again."

It was too easy for Kurt to imagine a 12 year old Sebastian sitting alone without hope and he was shocked at how much it affected him.

"Wh-what did you do then? I mean when you were at your father's house," he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Studied mostly," Sebastian said and he met Kurt's eyes again. "He wanted me to be the top of my class when I eventually went to school and that meant also making sure my English was perfect."

"Wasn't it already?" Kurt asked, recalling how Sebastian's mother had insisted on speaking English.

"Almost." The ghost of a smirk appeared on Sebastian's face. "But he wanted to get rid of my accent so I would be no different from the other teenagers. I needed to blend in."

"So you stopped speaking French?"

"Yeah, I-" Sebastian paused and for a second he looked almost wistful. "I can barely remember it at all actually."

"Oh." Kurt didn't say anything else, from Sebastian's tone he knew that the loss of the language meant more than he was letting on. In a way, Kurt supposed, it had been Sebastian's last connection to his mother. Kurt had letters, had photographs and fuzzy home videos to remind him of his mother, and Sebastian had nothing but his own memories.

"You said you went to school?" Kurt asked, in an effort to distract both himself and Sebastian from what was being left unsaid.

"Yeah," Sebastian cleared his throat. "You probably don't know it but I went to a private boarding school, Dalton Academy."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "Dalton, really?"

"You know it?" Sebastian asked curiously.

"We, uh, we competed against your show choir…" Kurt felt a tingle of unease run through him at sharing such personal information.

"Oh, really?" Sebastian sounded taken aback. "You would probably remember Blaine Anderson then?"

"Short? Too much gel?" Kurt asked and he almost smiled until he remembered that Mercedes had said the exact same thing at regionals and he had to dig his nails into his palms to stop from whimpering. His eyes watered at the thought of his friends back home and he was thankful for the distraction of Sebastian answering his question.

"That's the one," Sebastian nodded, and if he had noticed Kurt's lapse in control, he didn't say anything and Kurt was grateful for that. "He was a nice guy…"

Kurt cringed when he realised that their conversation was beginning to resemble awkward small talk and he searched his mind hastily for another question.

"You, uh, weren't in show choir, were you?" Kurt couldn't remember seeing him but he supposed the only reason he remembered Blaine was because he'd been the lead singer, he couldn't remember any of the backup at all.

"No," Sebastian said and this time Kurt definitely heard strong regret in Sebastian's voice. "My father he didn't think it was appropriate for me to be in show choir when asked. I was in the lacrosse team."

"Does he know you're gay?" Kurt asked before he could stop himself and he immediately wished he could take it back.

Sebastian, however, barely reacted to the question and instead he just sighed quietly. "Yeah, he does."

"And he's okay with it…?" Kurt asked, and when he realised how personal his questions were getting, hastily added "You don't have answer that, sorry."

"No, it's fine," Sebastian said sincerely. "I don't think he really thinks about it, when I came out all he said to me 'I don't care who your dick wants as long you don't screw up.'"

Kurt flinched. While that definitely wasn't the worst thing he had heard a parent say to their gay child, the callousness of Sebastian's father compared to his own father's immediate acceptance made him feel another pang of sympathy for Sebastian. He wondered if Sebastian's mother had known that he was gay and if she would have accepted him all the same. But the way Sebastian had talked about her; there was almost no doubt that she would have loved her son no matter what.

There was a long silence; Kurt was wrapped in his own thoughts of all that Sebastian had lost, gradually leaving him feeling empty and sad and it was Sebastian who eventually spoke.

"Did you win Nationals?"

The question was so mundane that it was exactly what Kurt needed. The similarity of his own situation and Sebastian's was beginning to bear down on him heavily and Kurt had no idea what it meant.

"Yeah, we did," he said roughly and from the look on Sebastian's face, Kurt could tell he knew what Kurt was feeling. It scared him to death.

"Do you have a good voice?" Sebastian asked carefully, his eyes boring into Kurt's.

"Of course I do," Kurt tried to smirk and he almost succeeded. "I'm actually-"

But he didn't finish because at that moment both he and Sebastian heard the sound of the door being unlocked.

*******

"So you talked to him?" she asks and there's a hint of judgment in her voice. "About show choir?"

"Among other things, yes." Kurt won't rise to her bait; he's just going to tell it like it is. "But mostly we talked about how he was taken away from his mother."

"Ah, yes," Piper Ray glances down at her notes. "The story of how Sebastian became a part of the Smythe family was brought up on trial but as there was no evidence to it ever happening and James Smythe denied all allegations, it was declared false."

Kurt feels anger flare up inside him but he doesn't let it show. He has already broken enough plates and cried countless tears because of this and a repeat performance of that on national television will do no good at all.

"Did you trust him?" Piper has obviously figured out what his silence means and while her change of subject is abrupt, it is welcome on Kurt's part.

"Almost," Kurt says, deliberately cryptic despite telling the truth.

"Almost?" Piper asks.

"I didn't exactly want to but I was starting to," Kurt explains and he is being completely honest despite the fact that his stomach is still in knots from the bright lights and the faceless camera men.

"Once you were safely out and after the basement was searched, it was found out that you were being routinely drugged through your food with a drug known as Presphyll. Sebastian testified that he had no prior knowledge that the food you were given contained the drug."

He nods. "I don't think he did know."

Piper ignores him and instead addresses the camera. "Presphyll is a common drug that can be bought over the counter that makes the recipient feel heavily fatigued and is usually administered to people with insomnia or other sleep related conditions."

His father had been so angry when he had found out but Kurt hadn't been overly surprised. He had been constantly sleeping and more often than not that sleep had been dreamless and untouched by nightmares. And he can't regret eating anyway as he would have died had he not; it's better to be drugged than dead or at least that's what his therapist says.

"Were you aware you were being drugged?" Piper Ray asks.

"No," Kurt says shortly. "But it makes a lot of sense."

"Were you aware you mostly slept during the day?"

"No," Kurt says. "I wasn't aware of anything going on outside until my father's tape."

*******

Sebastian immediately moved backwards until he was as far away from Kurt as possible and Kurt, knowing who was on the other side, scooted towards the wall in an effort to get as far away from the door as possible.

What Kurt did not expect was to see Brendan pushing a small television on a trolley into the room. He barely Kurt a glance and instead barked at Sebastian "You going to help me with this or not?"

Without comment, Sebastian leapt to his feet and helped move the trolley into the centre of the room. Kurt watched them, making sure his eyes remained impassive despite his insides twisting in fear. He had no idea what was going on and Brendan's presence only made the feeling of dread inside him intensify. He wondered if this was it, perhaps his father hadn't been able to get the money and it was Wednesday. Although he couldn't imagine why they would need a television to kill him.

"Listen!" Brendan barked and Kurt's heart beat quickened in fear at the harshness of his tone. "We have a surprise for you."

Kurt risked a glance at Sebastian who looked as confused as Kurt felt.

"We," Brendan paused. "have a tape from your father."

Kurt froze, heart pounding. His father? He couldn't decide if he was relieved or scared of what the tape might contain. He didn't know if he could handle seeing his father, hearing his voice. Kurt felt sick to his stomach when he realised that Sebastian had been a distraction from thinking about his own problems. It had been so easy to focus on Sebastian's pain, a pain worse than his and now the guilt at that realisation was smothering.

"Hey, Kurt."

He didn't know how long it had been since he had heard his father's voice but the shock of hearing in this place was enough to make Kurt gasp and snap his head up to look at the television.

His father looked awful. While he was wearing a pristine suit and sitting behind an oak desk, Burt's eyes were red and lined with dark circles and he looked as if he hadn't slept in days. Kurt felt his guilt increase, he had done this, turned his father into a complete wreck. But the guilt wasn't enough to erase the relief at seeing him. All Kurt wanted to do was go home.

"I just wanted to let you know that we will get you out of there."

Kurt dug his nails into his palms at the hollow conviction in his voice. He wanted to believe that it was just fatigue that was making his father sound like he was beaten already but he couldn't, not when his father looked worse than he had in hospital.

"You will get out of there Kurt, I promise you."

The video cut off and Kurt stared at the blank screen in shock. The video had barely lasted ten seconds and had done nothing but seal his fate. He was never getting out and his father's empty promises meant nothing because while Kurt knew that his father would never stop trying, there was not enough time.

"I don't think he has the money," Brendan said, raising an eyebrow at Kurt. "What do you think, Seb?"

Kurt couldn't stop from twisting his head to look at Sebastian but Sebastian merely shrugged.

"Hm," Brendan was already beginning to move the trolley out but just before he closed the door he turned back to Kurt who was still sitting, frozen on the mattress. "See you in two days, kid."

Kurt barely heard the closing of the door over the roaring in his ears.

Two days.

He only had two days left until they would kill him.

His father only had two days before his family was gone forever.

Kurt didn't realise he was hyperventilating until Sebastian quickly moved to where he was and kneeling down so he was at the same level as Kurt, put his hands on Kurt's shoulders.

"Shhh, Kurt," he whispered. "I need you to calm down."

"Calm down?" Kurt laughed a little hysterically. "I can't calm down, not when I'll be dead in two days."

He felt his choking dissolve in sobs and he could barely keep himself upright from the force of them.

"Your father will do everything he can," Sebastian murmured, sounding a little desperate. "Don't give up hope okay?"

"He can't do anything," Kurt cried out. "They'll always win."

"No, they won't," Sebastian said and Kurt tried to look at him through the tears blinding him. "They tried to break you but they couldn't."

"Yes, they did," Kurt sobbed. "I'm broken."

"I know what broken is," Sebastian said, looking directly into Kurt's eyes. "And you're not."

Kurt felt the energy seep out of him and he slumped forward, still crying softly with only Sebastian's grip on his shoulders keeping him sitting up.

Without saying anything, Sebastian gently lowered Kurt down onto the mattress and Kurt stared up at him wordlessly. Sebastian looked so concerned and so gentle that Kurt realised what he had meant when he said he knew what broken was.

When Kurt was comfortably placed on the mattress, after giving Kurt one last sad look, Sebastian stepped away to most likely sit against the wall. But Kurt, without even fully thinking it through grabbed onto his wrist before he could walk away. And when Sebastian stared down questioningly at him, Kurt shifted on the mattress and tugged at Sebastian's wrist, a clear message.

Kurt didn't want to be alone.

And much to Kurt's surprise, Sebastian moved easily on the mattress, being careful to keep distance between him and Kurt.

The two of them lay silently, Kurt's crying eventually subsiding and morphing into quiet breathing like Sebastian's. Kurt had no idea what he was doing but having Sebastian there beside him, he felt safer than he had felt since the ordeal had begun. He was too tired to question it though, his eyes felt indescribably heavy from both crying and exhaustion.

"I don't want to die," he whispered eventually when he was on the edge of sleep.

"You won't," Sebastian murmured, so quietly that Kurt wasn't entirely sure he had heard correctly. "I promise, I'll make sure of it."


	8. Chapter 8

Kurt noticed two things when he was jolted awake. One, that he couldn't have been asleep for very long and two – Sebastian who was lying beside him was crying quietly. Kurt lay in silence for a moment, keeping his eyes closed while he listened. Sebastian's cries were muffled by the mattress and had Kurt been at the other end of the small room he would not have heard a thing from the other boy. The bed shook slightly as Sebastian presumably turned himself onto his back and for the first time since he had risen to consciousness, Kurt realised that he had asked Sebastian to share the mattress with him. His breathing quickened slightly but Kurt still didn't open his eyes. He had not been thinking clearly when he had reached out to Sebastian, he had not thought of the consequences if someone came in while they were sleeping, all he had been able to think of was how alone he felt and how much his father was suffering for him. Kurt did not regret asking Sebastian for the reasons he probably should have.

He was not afraid of Sebastian.

He had come to this conclusion after Sebastian had revealed his horrific life story and Kurt had realised that Sebastian was just as scared of his father as Kurt was, perhaps even more than that. When Kurt had looked into Sebastian's eyes, he had seen his own fears reflected in them and he somehow knew that Sebastian understood how Kurt felt. It was with that in mind that Kurt opened his eyes with the intent to offer some kind of comfort to Sebastian, just as he had done for Kurt. But when Kurt sat up, wrapping his arms around himself, he was surprised to see that Sebastian was asleep. He was still whimpering softly, tears tracking their way down his face and on closer inspection Kurt saw that Sebastian's hands were unsuccessfully grasping at the mattress and his back was slightly arched as he twisted infinitesimally in his sleep. Kurt felt a little helpless as he listened to Sebastian's cries escalate, he wasn't sure what to do or whether he could even do anything at all. Sebastian looked innocent asleep, younger, and Kurt supposed that had he not been crying he would have looked more at peace with himself.

"Kurt."

Kurt's eyes widened and for a split second wondered if despite his closed eyes, Sebastian was in fact awake, but as Kurt scrutinised Sebastian carefully, the other boy's lax muscles and the way he was now mumbling incoherently told Kurt that he was still asleep. Kurt felt a wave of sadness pass over him as he listened closer to what Sebastian was murmuring.

"I'm sorry… mmph… Maman I tried so hard… forgive…" Sebastian let out a strangled cry and turned back on to his side, facing away from Kurt and Kurt's hands fluttered about uselessly as he tried to think of what to do.

His head hurt, his mouth was dry and he could still remember how his father had looked on the tape but all Kurt could think about was the boy – and he was definitely a boy – lying beside him. The room had always been warm enough to not need blankets but not so warm that it was uncomfortable, but sitting there on the bed next to Sebastian, Kurt felt feverishly hot as he watched Sebastian cry out as if he were only a small child.

Was Kurt supposed to wake Sebastian up? Would that make things better or worse? Because to him, it didn't matter how horrible his dreams were, this reality was worse, at least it was for him and he was beginning to understand how it was the same for Sebastian. While Kurt had woken up to Sebastian crying before, this was different.

The previous time Sebastian's cries had been desperate in contrast to the way Sebastian was now, crying softly into his pillow like a little boy, and Kurt could not decide which was worse.

"Shhh," Kurt whispered, finally deciding to throw caution to the wind. "Shhh, Sebastian."

At the sound of Kurt's voice, Sebastian's cries grew quieter and Kurt sighed in relief.

"Shhh," he said again and mercifully, Sebastian's cries were reduced to the occasional whimper.

He was still shaking however, his body rubbing up against the mattress in a way that suggested he was having a nightmare. Kurt, not knowing what else to do, hesitantly brought a hand up to Sebastian and, just like his father had done when his mother had died, began to rub small circles over the other boy's back.

He did this for what felt like hours until Sebastian's breathing had evened out and his only movement was the rise and fall of his chest. And only when Kurt himself felt inexplicably tired did he stop.

*******

"What was your reaction to the tape?" Piper asks, once again leaning forward in her seat and he represses a sigh.

He deliberately made the retelling of his father's tape brief and to the point. He doesn't want to relive it, not at all, and he had hoped that perhaps that they would have let it slide.

Of course they wouldn't.

"I felt really scared," he says, going for full honesty. "Up until then, I guess I still had that certainty that my father would do everything he could to get me out and that would be enough. But because he looked so sick and I was under the impression that they didn't have the money, it felt as if I would be there for the rest of my life."

The rest of his life. It's almost a joke and he can see Piper's twist in awareness. Back then, the rest of his life had meant a few more days.

"You mentioned that Sebastian Smythe, you thought that, uh, that he felt as lonely as you," Piper Ray says and Kurt wonders where this is going. "Was there any point in time when you believed his depression to be an act?"

He wants to yell at her, tell her she knows nothing about what she's saying and to leave the dark, unfriendly studio, but he remembers what his father's lawyer had told him.

"Logic, logic trumps everything. If you have logic on your side, you can't lose."

"Why would he need to act?" Kurt asks, trying desperately to be passive. "I didn't have any information for them, they knew that. The only reason I was there was because I'm my fathers son."

He winces when he realises what he has said. His father feels the guilt just as much as he does and it doesn't matter how many times Kurt tries to reassure him, he still blames himself. And Kurt just added to the guilt.

"That's true," Piper says. "But as you said, he was almost as trapped as you were, perhaps he acted the way he did for personal reasons?"

"He knew what it felt like to be me." Kurt's voice wobbles with anger or despair, he can't tell. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

There's really one person who understands other than him and they're not in this room.

*******

When Kurt woke up again the mattress was empty and Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. Kurt didn't know how he felt about that, he had been in the room for what felt like so long and while most of the time, Kurt had felt constantly lonely, Sebastian's presence had lately made him feel less alone. Sebastian's sleepy pleas for forgiveness were still fresh in Kurt's mind and the weight of them only added to the burden of his worries. He knew that he should never have tried to break Sebastian's walls even if he had done so intentionally, but now that it was done, Kurt found himself empathising with Sebastian to such a massive degree that he no longer saw him as a captor but as a fellow victim.

And this was dangerous, very dangerous, but he couldn't seem to stop.

Kurt began to make his way to the bathroom on autopilot, too busy with his own thoughts to pay attention to his actions. He wished he could make sense of everything; it had been so simple in the beginning when he had nothing to focus on but his own pain. But Sebastian was so broken and yet Kurt could tell that he wasn't broken beyond repair, Sebastian had too much compassion and too much sadness so close to the surface. Kurt could foresee a future, a future where Sebastian lost all of himself, gave up hope and succumbed to his father but it hadn't happened yet. And the worst part was that Kurt wanted to help, wanted to see Sebastian rise above the man who had ruined his life and taken him away from his mother. But he didn't know how, didn't even know if he was going to get out, and the idea that it was impossible seemed to itch away at the back of his brain and he couldn't ignore it. The only person he could think of who would know what to do, what to say to him was his father and he wasn't there, wasn't anywhere near wherever Kurt was.

Kurt's knees buckled and he fell to the floor onto his hands and knees, his breath coming in short gasps. He was so confused and he couldn't focus on one thing, not the ground in front of him or the ache at his father's absence or Sebastian and the way he seemed to see Kurt as he was. He could feel it all at once and yet his mind remained blank. Vaguely he began to feel panicked at what was going on, or rather what wasn't, but before he could release the scream that was building inside him he felt a hand press gently down on his shoulder. He knew without a look it was Sebastian, who else could it be? And the relief at being able to recognise something seemed to placate the hysteria raging inside of him and he felt himself relax marginally.

"Breathe," Sebastian instructed and Kurt obeyed, taking large mouthfuls of air into his lungs one at a time. He was still tense, kneeling there on the ground but his head was clearer and the hand on his shoulder seemed to anchor him.

"Can you sit on the mattress, is that okay?" Sebastian asked, making it clear Kurt could say no, but Kurt wouldn't have anyway. His knees were beginning to hurt and his wrists were stinging.

He moved slowly over to the mattress, past feeling any embarrassment at how slowly and clumsily he walked. Placing himself down onto the mattress, he turned to Sebastian who was standing a few feet away.

"Do you remember what happened last night? Or were you completely asleep?" Kurt asked curiously, noticing the way Sebastian made no move to sit down next to him. Perhaps he had been awake.

"I remember a little," Sebastian admitted, sounding incredibly regretful. "I am so sorry to have done that."

The apology hung in the air between them and Kurt stared at Sebastian for a long moment.

"You don't have to apologise," Kurt said finally, meaning more than just his most recent apology. "It's not your fault."

"Oh," Sebastian said, clearly having grasped Kurt's meaning. "But I do and it is."

"Stop," Kurt said, staring at Sebastian beseechingly. "It's too much for one person."

Sebastian pulled his mouth into a half smile that was full of sadness and Kurt mirrored that smile, understanding what Sebastian was saying without using words. He knew Sebastian would keep going, keep going until one day he broke.

"Your dad got the money," Sebastian said suddenly, urgency clear in his tone. "You'll be exchanged tomorrow."  
Any thoughts Kurt had possessed before Sebastian had started speaking were completely wiped from his mind by that simple statement. The words didn't seem to make sense, seemed out of place in the small, windowless room and yet here they were, being spoken. An emotion that Kurt hadn't felt in days began to swell up inside him: hope.

He continued to stare at Sebastian who was staring back at Kurt, a look of immense relief painted on his features.

"Is that the truth?" Kurt asked softly, his voice wobbling from his efforts to keep his tone even.

"It's the truth," Sebastian said. "I promise."

Kurt closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in his newfound knowledge. For the first time in that tiny room he was able to think of his father without feeling the sharp pains of guilt and longing that he had grown accustomed to feeling. He had truly believed at one time that he was destined to spend the rest of his short life trapped and without hope, had believed that he would never see his father again, and now he was being set free. He would be in control of his own life again.

Kurt opened his eyes to see Sebastian was still staring at him, looking about as relieved as Kurt felt.

"Thank you," Kurt murmured and Sebastian's expression didn't change.

"I'll go get you some food," he said and shifted his gaze from Kurt to the door.

Kurt stayed silent while Sebastian exited the room, still a little caught up in the prospect of his release, or as Sebastian put it 'exchange.'

How had his father gotten the money? They had never been short of money but they hadn't exactly been well off either. One million dollars was a lot, certainly more than Kurt valued himself at and he wondered if perhaps the government had lent it to his father in exchange for the extended term they had previously been trying to get him to take on. He would ask his father when he saw him, he would be able to do that; talk to him. Because Kurt was going to be able to go home at last and it didn't matter how his father got the money,

It was yet another thing Kurt owed his father for and he felt certain he would pay in guilt later on. But in that moment, Kurt felt so very lucky. His head hurt, he was hungry and his legs felt weak even though he was sitting down but yet he was so close to being happy.

Sebastian came back in with a tray of bread and water and Kurt accepted it readily, muttering a quiet thank you that Sebastian sighed sadly at.

Kurt ate slowly, trying to make the meagre portion last longer than a few minutes. He couldn't have been locked up for longer than a week but already he felt that he was losing weight rapidly and, wrapping his right hand around his left wrist, he felt sick at how fragile it felt. Now that he knew he would see his father he couldn't help but wonder what he looked like. He felt bony and disgusting but that merely could have been his mind, projecting the way he felt into his physical appearance. It seemed so unimportant now, the way he had once planned his outfits religiously, he hadn't realised until too late that there were more crucial things in life. But while he knew it was so unimportant he couldn't help but fear his dad's reaction to what he looked like.

He felt shallow and disgusting all at once.

He drained the last of the water, too thirsty to save any for later and placed the bottle on the tray. Sebastian was sitting against the wall and had not noticed Kurt was finished as his eyes were closed so Kurt took the opportunity to observe him.

Though the room was only dimly lit, Kurt could clearly see that while Sebastian was marginally more relaxed than he had been previously, the circles under his eyes had gotten darker and when Kurt leaned closer, careful to keep quiet, he could see indents on Sebastian's cheek from where he had dug his nails in.

The wave of sadness that passed over Kurt was not wholly unexpected but the intensity of it still made Kurt shiver. In that moment Sebastian looked so very tired and Kurt was reminded of Sebastian's relieved expression as he told Kurt he was going to be free.

Kurt would escape and break free but Sebastian would remain, not quite a prisoner but just as trapped as Kurt had been.

"What will happen to you?" Kurt asked Sebastian abruptly, the thought only just coming to him. "After all this is over?"

Sebastian's eyes opened slowly and he turned his head to look at Kurt.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice rough.

"The police will know who you are," Kurt said, the realisation that he would have to tell the police everything sinking in immediately and the guilt he felt at the thought of telling them about Sebastian weighed down heavily on him.

"Yes, they will," Sebastian agreed, no animosity in his voice at all, only acceptance.

"Won't they be able to find you?" Kurt asked.

"I'll probably go into hiding," Sebastian shrugged, the lightness in his tone sounding incredibly forced. "New home, new identity… To be honest I don't know exactly. I'll just have to wait and see."

"Oh," Kurt said.

"I don't get told things until they're just about to happen," Sebastian continued. "I just do what I'm told."

But what happens when you've had enough? Kurt wanted to ask. What then?

Instead, Kurt didn't say anything. He continued to stare at the wall, his own relief at being released battling with the worry that was building inside of him for Sebastian.

"I wish it wasn't like that," Kurt said finally and Sebastian gave him a small, sad smile.

"Me too," he said. "But it's okay. By tomorrow, you'll be back home."

"But you won't be!" Kurt burst out before he could stop himself and to his embarrassment, tears began to spring into his eyes. "You'll just continue this horrible life until you die! It's not fair, you didn't ask for this, this isn't you and yet every day it has to be because there's no way out for you!"

Sebastian's eyes widened and Kurt felt a tear roll down his face and he reached a hand to brush it away.

"It's not fair," he mumbled. "You don't deserve this."

Sebastian stood up slowly, his face inexplicably tender as he moved towards Kurt.

"I'll be fine," he said reassuringly but his voice cracked slightly as he spoke. He knelt in front of Kurt and his expression was painstakingly gentle. "Out of the two of us, you deserve everything, Kurt. And I'll get what's coming to me."

"Stop saying things like that!" Kurt said, his voice rising slightly. "This isn't your fault."

"There's so much I could have done," Sebastian said desperately. "So much I could have done but I didn't because I'm a coward."

"You're not broken, Sebastian," Kurt clenched his eyes shut in an effort to rid his of the tears gathering. "And you're not a coward."

"But-" Sebastian began, his eyes flashing with an emotion Kurt couldn't describe, but he stopped immediately at the sound of muffled yells and heavy thumps coming from outside the room. Both Sebastian and Kurt turned their heads towards the door in panic. There were a few more shouts and a particularly loud bang and without any warning at all, the heavy door to the room was wrenched off his hinges.

Kurt did not have enough air to gasp when he saw who was standing in the doorway. His father stood in the doorway, panting loudly and holding a gun, eyes fixed on Kurt and seemingly ignoring Sebastian altogether. Kurt had barely taken in his father's wide-eyed expression before he was enveloped in his father's arms.

"Oh, Kurt," his father whispered brokenly and Kurt felt his father's hot tears fall onto his head. He did not respond, too distracted by his father's familiar smell and the feeling of finally being home. He was broken from his haze however by the sound of more men entering the room and he twisted from his father's grip to see several men all wearing black and holding gun's not dissimilar to the one his father was holding. He did not understand what they were doing until he heard Sebastian yelp from a few feet away. Kurt watched in horror as two of the men grabbed Sebastian roughly by the arms and at the sight of a gun being pressed to Sebastian's head while Sebastian closed his eyes, visibly shaking, Kurt lost it completely.

"No!" He screamed, lunging towards Sebastian and the men, his only thought to protect Sebastian. Sebastian's eyes widened and he shook his head at Kurt, eyes full warning.

Kurt had barely gotten within a foot of Sebastian before Burt had grabbed onto his arms, attempting to pull him back.

"You can't do this to him!" Kurt cried out, tears gushing down his cheeks as Sebastian was pressed up against the wall by one man while the other began to search him. "Let him go!"

"Kurt!" Burt exclaimed, still pulling on Kurt's arms as Kurt shoved and twisted.

"Let him go!" Kurt repeated shrilly, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "Please!"

"Get him out of here," one of the men instructed Burt and Kurt barely registered the words, too focused on Sebastian looking so defenseless.

Burt wrapped his arms around Kurt's middle and began to push Kurt towards the door, his face clouded with confusion as Kurt continued to shriek.

"Let me go!" he screamed, all control lost when he realised what his father was doing. He tried to get his arms free, struggling against Burt's iron like grip.

"Kurt no! Stop!" Sebastian called out to him, voice muffled by the wall. "I'll be fine! Go!"

"No!" Kurt choked, trying to kick his father in the shins as they got closer to the door. He opened his mouth to scream again when he was abruptly thrown over Burt's shoulder. His sobs grew louder as Burt walked quickly over to the empty door frame and as Burt passed it, Kurt used the last of his strength to grip the sides of the door frame with both hands.

"Sebastian!" he cried, his voice hoarse and quieter than before. "Sebastian!"

But Burt continued to move and Kurt was wrenched from the door frame and carried outside and into the light.


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt had never felt so young, cradled in his father's arms with his head pressed close to his chest. He cried big heaving sobs that ripped their way out of his lungs and contrasted with the silent tears he could feel dripping onto the top of his head. The whole thing was horrible in its clarity, he didn't feel numb or detached, he heard every whispered apology from his father, every muttered instruction from the detective to the driver and every yell that came from the building outside the car that he had been bundled into. It was too bright outside, the sun was not yet fading and despite the tinted windows, the sight of the blue skies had been too much, he felt like he was seeing the sun for the first time and it hurt. He pressed his face deeper into his father's shirt, biting his lip to stop himself from calling out.

Sebastian.

As the car began to move, he started shaking, his brain a muddle of tired thoughts and horrible images that he had thought up all on his own.

Sebastian locked up in a tiny cell, all alone.

Alone. Always alone.

They arrived much sooner than Kurt had expected and the familiar sight of his childhood home made something that felt a lot like guilt stir inside his chest. He had a home to fall back on, to return to, and Sebastian's had been ripped from him years ago. He had envisioned returning home so many times in that tiny little room but when his father carried him inside and he was able to gaze at the photos on the wall and the weathered couches in the living room, he had not expected it to feel so horrible.

It was almost as if he was out of place, a foreign object in the place he'd thought he'd belonged. He felt his eyes well up from frustration and he clenched his hands into fists, making his nails dig sharply into his palm.

"We're nearly there, you'll be okay," his dad murmured, rounding the corner that led to Kurt's bedroom. Kurt felt his throat tighten at the ache that remained despite his father's assurances and in that moment he felt with utmost certainty that he would never be okay again.

*******

"Okay Kurt, we want you to tell us the whole story, from the beginning. Take as much time as you need."

It was the day after he had been found and he had spent over 20 hours in his bed, all through the afternoon and into the morning. But he had spent almost half of those leaning upright against the headboard in cold sweat while his father held his hand and tried futilely to comfort him.

Kurt was now sitting down on a soft leather armchair in the office of a man who had introduced himself as the chief of Westerville Police. As it happened he was not occupying the large wooden desk that was directly opposite to Kurt, instead there sat a broad shouldered Latino man named Mr Martinez who had apparently been the head investigator of Kurt's "situation".

Kurt had spent the few hours he had had at home that morning fretting silently over what he was supposed to say when the police called for the whole story. He was able to look over those long hours with new eyes, he was able to see the situation for what it was but still, his conviction that Sebastian was a victim was perhaps even stronger. His father hadn't asked any questions of him yet, hadn't even alluded to the way he'd had to carry Kurt out of his prison, kicking and screaming. Kurt wanted to, wanted to tell his father everything and he had actually begun to do so while sitting at the kitchen table over pancakes. But Burt had held up a hand regretfully and told him that the police needed to be the first ones to hear. And as soon as he heard that, Kurt knew that he would tell the complete truth when the time came and that he wouldn't leave out anything Sebastian told him.

Kurt knew this was bigger than himself.

There was a hollow ache in his chest that felt a lot like when he was missing his father except it was a thousand times worse because Sebastian was out there somewhere alone, while Kurt had all the opportunities in the world to rebuild. And he didn't need them nearly as much as he was sure Sebastian needed them.

"Mr Hummel?" Mr Martinez asked and Kurt stared up in confusion before he remembered the question. He didn't look the man in the eyes. Despite the fact that he was the only other person in the room, Kurt felt claustrophobic. He knew that the cameras were taping this and that it was being watched live by a team of investigators, a psychologist and worst of all, his father. His skin itched and his head was beginning to throb under the invisible gazes that were undeniably watching him. But he knew he needed to do this, not for himself but for Sebastian.

"S-sorry," he mumbled, fixing his eyes on the framed diploma behind Mr Martinez's head. "You want to hear everything?"

"Everything," Mr Martinez said professionally but Kurt could tell he was putting a lot of effort into trying to sound gentle.

"I was walking to the theatre and I was just crossing the road-" Kurt swallowed heavily, closing his eyes for a brief second. This would not be the only time he would have to relive it all, he knew that, and he only hoped the first time was the hardest.

"Are you okay?" Mr Martinez asked and he sounded genuinely concerned. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"No, I'm fine," Kurt said, taking a deep breath.

Sebastian needs this, he reminded himself. Sebastian needs this and so do you.

Kurt took a deep breath and began to talk.

*******

"How long were you talking to the detective?" Piper asks and she looks more eager than she has been during the entire interview and Kurt knows it's because this is the part of the interview that everyone will watch.

Her bright eyes and the way she's leaning forward in her seat show that she's going for the kill.

"Two hours maybe?" Kurt guesses, shrugging a little.

"So you told him everything?"

"Everything," Kurt affirms.

There is a pause, whether it's for dramatic effect or because Piper has forgotten what she wanted to ask, Kurt doesn't know.

"What was your father's reaction to this?" she asks finally and Kurt cringes before he can stop himself. The room he had been interviewed in had been soundproof so it wasn't until he had finished talking to Mr Martinez and had left the room, feeling more than a little unsettled and aching for his father, that he'd found out his father had spent the majority of his interview banging against the door and calling out for him. He had opened the door and within seconds his father had bundled him up in his arms, sobbing furiously while Kurt had said nothing. He hadn't known what to say, there had been nothing that Kurt could have said to make it better. And there was nothing his father could say either.

But it didn't stop him from trying.

They'd left the police station in a hurry, the grim stares of the policemen quickly becoming too much for Kurt. It wasn't until later when his father had driven him home and he was sitting numbly at the kitchen table that he realised they pitied him. And Kurt hadn't even been able to feel angry at them for thinking he was weak because the trembling of his fingers and the way he could barely say two words to his father made him feel exactly that. But eventually they had talked, after Kurt had spent hours staring at the wall while his father tiptoed around the house uncertainly. His father had finally sat down with him and asked, very tenderly, if Kurt was ready to talk, to explain why he had fought so desperately against him when he'd been there to save Kurt. And Kurt had almost said no, he had been prepared to let it sit inside him while he tried to make sense of it all. But then the thought of Sebastian made him change his mind, he needed his father to understand.

And Burt to his credit hadn't said anything while Kurt talked. He told him about Sebastian and how he'd looked as if he was already an old man, filled with regret. Kurt had talked through his tears when he told in finer detail the story of Sebastian's mother and how Sebastian had been taken from his home so young. It had hurt more than telling his own story to Mr Martinez and when he'd finally finished, he had been a sobbing, gasping mess. And Burt had just stared at him, his guilt and disbelief so plain on his features that Kurt couldn't stand it, he'd run up to his room and cried into his pillow, hating that his bed was empty.

"He was very…" Kurt struggles for words for a moment, completely aware that his father is only 50 metres away backstage in a green room somewhere. "…upset."

He's not going to elaborate anymore than that, he doesn't have to. Any parent watching this interview will be able to imagine just how his father must have felt and he doesn't need to say it. Even so, Piper looks unhappy with his answer and the look she is giving him is clearly telling him to keep talking.

"He was very upset but he was very supportive as well," Kurt finally says when the silence becomes too long, and Piper reanimates herself.

"Yes, please tell us about what happened in the days after the interview. You just stayed at home?"

It's a very personal question, more personal than the interview deserves, it's hardly what the public wants to hear and yet Piper is looking disturbingly eager for his answer.

"I spent my time at home," Kurt says. "Dad took time off work to look after me."

Kurt had spent his first few days sitting on their living room couches with movies playing in the background while he was visited by friends and family, all of whom spoke in soft voices around him and asked mundane questions to fill the frequent awkward pauses. He had managed to smile during those visits, to ease the concerned looks his friends would give him when they thought he wasn't looking and he mostly succeeded at keeping his façade up the entire time. It wasn't until after each of them had hugged him gently and walked out the door that he crumbled. He hadn't even known why he was crying, he had still been horribly frail from the little food he had eaten, and combined with the horrible nightmares that plagued his sleep despite the pills, it was no wonder that it took all his strength to wait until he was alone to fall apart.

"But you weren't coping so well, were you?" Piper asks.

"No," Kurt replies shortly. "It was very difficult."

"So your father took you to a well-known psychologist, Dr Emily Staher, who specialises in severe trauma," Piper states and Kurt can't help but lash out.

"The police sent me to a psychologist," he says behind clenched teeth and his jaw tightens. "They needed a test of my mental health for the trial."

"But your father, he wanted you to go to help deal with things as well, right?" Piper stares at him, a hint of triumph in her eyes and he has to nod tersely.

"Yes."

His father had told him at the end of his third day at home, when he had entered Kurt's room to find clothes splayed out across the room and Kurt himself, a quivering huddle in the corner.

"They need an analysis, buddy," he'd said gently when Kurt was seated downstairs with a mug of tea. "And I think you need someone to talk to about this."

He'd agreed, even though he hadn't wanted to. He'd do anything to wipe off that worried crease between his father's eyes.

"What happened during your sessions with Dr Staher?"

This interview, he thinks bitterly. At least you're pretending to understand.

"So what you're saying is," Dr Staher said, looking down at her notes. "Is that you and Sebastian engaged in numerous conversations."

"Yes," Kurt confirmed, already feeling a tingle of dread run through him.

He was sitting on a plush armchair across from Dr Staher, who was a tall blonde woman wearing black glasses and a pleasant face.

"And that you also exchanged physical contact as well," she said, looking up at him and thankfully her eyes were completely devoid of judgment.

"Uh, yes," Kurt said and he suddenly began to feel very hot in the small room and wished he had not worn so many layers.

"Okay," she said, looking at her notepad again and scribbling something down. "Did you trust him? Or rather, do you trust him?"

The question made Kurt pause. He had not been asked that question yet, not by anyone, and still he knew the answer almost straight away.

"I did," he said, taking a deep breath. "And I do."

Dr Staher looked up at him again, her expression thoughtful.

"And do you blame him for anything that happened to you?" she asked.

"No," Kurt said truthfully and Dr Staher frowned almost unnoticeably. "I don't."

"Mmmhm, okay Mr Hummel, I think we're done for today," Dr Staher said, closing her notepad and standing up. "Next week will be your first session that isn't analysis and we'll able to take our time a bit, okay?" She smiled and Kurt hesitantly smiled back.

"Why don't you go get a drink and maybe something to eat outside while I talk to your dad and Mr Martinez and Mr Larson for a bit, is that okay?" she asked and Kurt nodded.

Jeffrey Larson was his and his father's lawyer and in the few days Kurt had been released he'd been a frequent visitor, often staying in the kitchen with his father until late at night while they whispered quietly about what Kurt assumed was the trial.

It was set to be in almost a week and a half and while the date had been pushed up mainly due to his father's congressman status, it felt like an eternity. Kurt needed to see that Sebastian was safe, needed to see that he was doing alright, he felt helpless knowing that Sebastian would most likely be charged and sent to prison. He needed to do something, anything.

He walked out of the room just as the three men went in and while the smile on his father's face was mildly comforting, the weirdly strained smile on Dr Staher's face made him feel even more uneasy. He turned his head to look back at the four of them just as he reached the door and it was clear that he needed to leave. Whatever it was that Dr Staher needed to say, it needed to be said away from him. He walked out of the room silently, stomach churning nervously as he deliberately left the door slightly ajar and instead of turning left into the corridor and walking through to the waiting room, he pressed himself against the wall next to the door and strained his ears, hoping to catch whatever it was they were saying. He felt paranoid and while there was more than a small chance that it was all in his mind, he couldn't help but feel as if something bad was going to happen or had already been put in motion.

He wasn't wrong.

"….can't let him testify," Dr Staher was saying. "I'm sorry but it won't hold up, not with my diagnosis."

Kurt's eyes widened and his heart began to hammer in his chest as they continued to speak.

"Diagnosis? What the hell are you talking about?" Kurt's dad asked loudly and he sounded as confused as Kurt felt. What was going on? What did she mean by 'diagnosis'? He didn't have anything, he'd been cleared at the hospital already.

"After talking with him, I immediately knew," Dr Staher said. "I'm afraid he has Stockholm Syndrome."

Kurt could barely contain his gasp of shock and he felt a wave of nausea pass over him. She had it wrong, all of it. How could she have gotten it so wrong? He remembered what Mercedes had once told him randomly while they were in class studying biology.

"This girl in like Germany or something, she helped her captors rob a bank! Like they kidnapped her and everything, but she wanted to help them because she had Stockholm Syndrome."

But that wasn't him, he knew that and surely his father knew that-

"I knew it, when he told me everything I knew something was off."

Kurt could barely believe that it was his father speaking, how could he think that? Didn't he trust Kurt? How could his father think the only reason Kurt thought Sebastian had worth and deserved a better life was because of some freaky syndrome he had going on in his brain?

No, no, no.

They wouldn't let him testify, he wouldn't be able to save Sebastian.

"We can just use the tape then," Jeffrey was saying confidently but Kurt had heard enough.

He pushed himself away from the wall, no longer caring if they heard him. He felt tears begin to form in his eyes and he did nothing to brush them away.

He had failed.

*******

"The trial went ahead the following week despite the fact that you were not allowed to testify and the taping of your police interview was shown to the judge and jury instead," Piper says and Kurt nods tersely, the memory of sitting at his house with his friends while his father was at the trial sharp in his mind. He had tried not to think about it, tried to let Mercedes' constant chatter distract him but in the end he hadn't succeeded. He'd only just made it out the front door before his friends had dragged him back in, kicking and screaming obscenities at them. That was the day he stopped taking his meds.

"The trial itself only lasted a few days due to the obvious involvement of the Smythe family and the confession given by Sebastian Smythe. His confession gave enough information for the police to track down several more members of the family, including James Smythe." Piper eyes Kurt who stares blankly back. "Were you aware that Sebastian was the one who tipped off the police about your whereabouts?"

"No," Kurt says softly. "Not until after the trial."

He remembers when his father told him and the bone crushing relief he'd felt. And yet he still felt guilty for feeling it, it was another thing that he owed Sebastian for. For Sebastian to put himself in such danger just to make sure that Kurt would get home, it felt like much more than Kurt deserved. His father had said the words without emotion and Kurt knew that it was because he was biting back the urge to tell Kurt what he thought of Sebastian's tip-off; Kurt knew that Burt believed Sebastian's full confession to be a way for him to spend as little time in prison as possible. But Kurt refused to even consider the idea, he knew Sebastian, knew what he was capable of.

"You were also told about the situation with Sebastian's mother who allegedly lives in Paris, correct?"

Kurt swallows hard. "Yes, I was."

Piper faces the camera again and Kurt relaxes a little into his chair. It's almost the end of the interview, there can't be more than five minutes left.

"Sebastian's claims of being taken from his mother at a young age were declared false as not only did his father deny them, Victoria Cantrel could not be located or contacted."

"That doesn't mean he was lying," Kurt butts in before he can stop himself and she turns back to him. The absence of Sebastian's mother had hurt more than anything that his father told him about the trial and Kurt had wanted to kick and scream but all he had managed to do was slowly crumble in the privacy of his bedroom.

"That's true," she allows and her tone is not unkind. "But it doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"I guess not," Kurt says and he feels older and more tired than he can remember feeling at the start of the interview.

"Because of his confession and his role in getting you home safe, Sebastian Smythe was given only five years in prison with no parole while the rest of those involved received 50 years not only because of their previous prison time but also because of their involvement in previous crimes." Piper's mouth twists with contempt. "A full investigation is currently being led into the depths of these crimes by Detective Martinez."

He can't watch the news anymore, not without seeing the faces of the Smythe family, and every time he sees Sebastian's father, he wants to throw something at the television.

"Sebastian's now being held at the Westerville Correction Centre," Piper says and Kurt tries desperately not to show any emotion. "Have you seen him since you were taken back home?"

"No," he answers truthfully. "No, I haven't."

His father desperately doesn't want him to see Sebastian, he's afraid that Kurt might do something stupid and it takes all of Kurt's sanity to stop himself from getting angry at Burt.

"Do you think you will at some point?"

"Who knows," he replies in a monotone, careful to keep his eyes on Piper.

She opens her mouth to speak but a light flashes from the side of the set and Kurt almost groans in relief.

The interview is over.

Light floods the entire studio and he can see the camera men standing a few feet away, can see a huddled mass of people in the corner, all staring at him and talking quietly. Kurt looks to his side to see Piper slumped in her seat and running a hand through her hair.

It must be tough for her, Kurt thinks bitterly and stands up. The room immediately goes quiet and Piper gazes up at him, suddenly looking much more human now that she's not asking him personal questions.

She opens her mouth, presumably to thank him for accepting the interview but he walks out before she can. Out the side door and into the foyer, he is finally able to breathe easier now that he is not under the scrutiny of all those people. Already a plan is forming in his head as he walks past pot plants and comfy chairs and when he sees his father, talking quietly to their lawyer in the corner, his back facing him, Kurt knows this is his only chance. He quickly moves to the open door, slipping out of it and into the busy street outside.

It's barely noon and the sun is still high in the sky and Kurt has to squint to look at the black car that is parked on the sidewalk. It's a private car, with a driver that Kurt has known for years and it's the car that is scheduled to take him and his father back home. He walks over to the backdoor and after taking a surreptitious glance back at the studio building where, through the windows, he can see his father still engaged in talking to Mr Larson, he opens the door and slips inside.

"Will your father be joining you?" Jim asks from the front seat, turning his head to smile at Kurt while Kurt does his seatbelt up.

"No, he'll be staying for a while," Kurt says and he doesn't feel too guilty, his father is a congressman, someone will give him a lift.

"Okay," Jim says easily. "Where to then, Mr Hummel?"

Kurt pauses, heart thumping in his chest as he thinks it through one last time. He could go anywhere, Jim would certainly take him anywhere, no questions asked.

Sitting there in the car, it's a defining moment, one that will change the way his life plays out and he knows exactly what it is he wants.

"Westerville," he says and for once the words that he's speaking aren't forced in the slightest. "Westerville Correction Centre."


	10. Epilogue

It's unusually hot for Paris in the spring and the sun is beating down onto Kurt's back, but he barely notices as all his attention is fixed on the man beside him. The past five years and six months have led up to this moment and yet he can still hear the busy traffic that's only metres away and he can smell the gasoline from the auto shop next door. The rest of the world continues outside of the little bubble that he and Sebastian have cocooned themselves in, but somehow it seems clearer than what stands directly in front of them. He can hear Sebastian's quiet breathing and it's so much more even paced than it should be.

They had arrived in Paris at seven in evening, when the sun was fading behind the clouds and the streets were bathed in yellow lamplight. They had been so tired, both of them, but as soon as they stepped out of the airport Sebastian was hailing a cab and asking Kurt to tell the chauffeur to drive to an address that Kurt immediately recognised. He wanted to say no, that the search could wait until morning, but he couldn't, not when Sebastian was gripping his arm tightly while they drove and whispering incoherently in broken French. They'd arrived at the block of apartments too slowly, by the time they pulled up, Sebastian was as tense as Kurt had ever seen him and he'd practically launched himself out of the taxi, leaving Kurt to pay the driver. Kurt had raced out after him, climbing the stairs two at a time until he reached the door that he'd heard so much about. And nothing about it was like he'd hoped.

A woman was standing in the doorframe, gazing in confusion at Sebastian who was kneeling a few feet away from the door, his head bent while his whole body shook. Disappointment did not begin to describe the emotion etched on Sebastian's face as he knelt in front of the apartment that was all but empty in his eyes. Kurt had gently helped him up and practically carried him down the stairs and into the cab, distractedly telling the driver the address to the hotel while Sebastian hid his face in Kurt's shirt. Sebastian hadn't asked why Kurt had thought to book a hotel and Kurt hadn't brought it up either, didn't want to have to voice his own trepidations about the trip.

What if they didn't find her?

They had woken up around noon the next day, wrapped around each other with Sebastian's face tucked into Kurt's neck and their legs entangled together. For the first hour it had almost been as if they really were on holiday, as if they were just tourists looking around the city for no other reason than to explore. They had eaten brunch on the balcony, Sebastian teasing Kurt about the amount of jam he spread on his toast and Kurt slapping Sebastian's hand away when it had begun to gently creep up his thigh under the table.

But then they'd gotten dressed and each item of clothing had caused the light in Sebastian's eyes to dim and by the time they were standing outside their hotel his face was completely devoid of emotion. Kurt knew that face, had seen Sebastian close in on himself so many times, both while in prison and during the past six months when he'd stayed at Kurt's apartment planning for the trip. Kurt was the only person Sebastian was ever open with and yet, whenever Sebastian's burdens became too large, instead of sharing he would lock them up. Kurt wasn't stupid, he saw the flashes of guilt that would pass over Sebastian's face whenever Kurt refused to take aspirin when he was sick, he heard Sebastian throwing up in their bathroom whenever Kurt woke up from his nightmares, screaming, and he felt the tremble of Sebastian's fingers whenever they held hands. But he hadn't let Sebastian close in on himself; his burden was too great to bear alone.

And so they had walked along the streets of Sebastian's old neighbourhood, knocking at every door, every shopfront, and asking the same question.

"Do you know Victoria Cantrel? Have you heard of her?"

Most of them shook their heads and the few that recognised the name all said the same thing.

"She moved out of that old apartment years ago."

Until finally, just before lunchtime, they'd stopped at a small bakery with the intent of buying some bread for lunch and when Kurt has asked in French if he knew of Sebastian's mother with no expectations at all, the man's eyes had lit up in recognition.

"Ah oui, Victoria!" He had smiled widely at them and then frowned almost immediately. "I haven't seen her in almost decades though, she tried to leave France as I recall."

"She left?" Sebastian had been gripping Kurt's hand tighter than Kurt could ever remember him doing.

"Non, her passport was invalid, never saw her again after that."

They had walked back to the hotel in silence and it wasn't until they were shut safely away in their room that Sebastian had finally broken down. He yelled and he screamed, ranting about his father's cruelty, calling him every bad name under the sun, but finally he'd crumpled, his mask of anger slipping and revealing a lost little boy who just wanted to find his mother. And Kurt had sensed that Sebastian's hurt was too great for even him to keep to it himself because when Kurt had wrapped his arms around the taller man, Sebastian had pressed his face into Kurt's neck and let his hot tears fall.

They resumed their search the next day.

But after days of asking, of looking and of trying desperately not to assume the worst, their searching had begun to turn slowly into sightseeing, into sitting in little cafés watching the people pass by and into long drives exploring the countryside. They still asked, still went to places that Sebastian remembered from his fuzzy childhood, but after every day when no new information was found it had begun to feel more like a holiday and on most days it had seemed to Kurt that Sebastian had been inclined to keep it that way.

Until finally, on their 15th day in Paris they were given an address.

It's how they ended up here in the graveyard on the outskirts of Paris.

Victoria Cantrel 1970-2008

Sebastian has not made a sound since they entered, and watching him, Kurt feels as if he's holding his breath, waiting for Sebastian to fall apart at the seams. And yet his breathing is even and he's simply staring at the tombstone with blank eyes. Kurt himself is holding back tears because despite the fact that he had suspected all along that she was dead, it had taken so much to get Sebastian to France and Sebastian had pinned all his hopes on this, finding her had meant everything. Kurt had lost count of the times Sebastian had called out for her in his sleep and now he did not even have the smallest chance of a reunion with his mother.

"I-I think," Sebastian says, finally looking away for the tombstone to stare at Kurt, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I think I knew she was dead."

"I'm so sorry, 'Bastian," Kurt says, taking Sebastian's hand and squeezing it gently.

"Me too," Sebastian says quietly and Kurt has to blink back tears at the way Sebastian's voice breaks.

There's silence for another minute and Kurt doesn't try and break it, he knows Sebastian, knows he doesn't need words. Instead he simply rubs circles into Sebastian's palm.

"She was already gone," Sebastian mutters and Kurt can feel that he's beginning to tense up. "She was already dead by the time I was 15 and he never told me. I spent years- years thinking that if I ran away she would be killed and it was all for nothing. And now I don't even have her."  
By the time he finishes speaking Sebastian is shaking, voice clouded with restrained anger, and for a second Kurt fears that Sebastian will lose himself right there and then. But then Sebastian lets out a long breath and slumps at Kurt's side.

"Where do I go from here?" he asks and Kurt can't stop the tears from escaping at the way he sounds so completely lost.

"I don't know," Kurt finally answers, opting for honesty. "But you know I'll always be here or at least for as long as you want me."

His words hang in the empty air for a brief moment but then Sebastian is turning to face Kurt and wrapping his arms around him. Their bodies are pressed flush against each other and Kurt really has to bite his lip to keep from sobbing because Sebastian's arms are firm around him and he smells like expensive aftershave and home.

"I'll always want you," Sebastian says and Kurt does let out a little sob then.

"I'll always want you too," he promises.

No matter what happens or what people say, I will always want you.  
It's always been Sebastian for Kurt. It's not what happened in Westerville, not the kindness Sebastian had shown when Kurt was locked up. It's the hours they spent talking while Sebastian was in prison about everything under the sun, it's the way Sebastian had held onto him when he'd been released and it's the way they fell together, clinging onto each other while they tried to work out this thing. It's the way Sebastian's eyes crinkle when Kurt wakes him up with coffee or the way Sebastian always knows what to say when Kurt gets back from talking to his father. It's the way small spaces don't seem so small when Sebastian is sitting next to him and the way Sebastian makes everything funnier with his sarcastic humour.

And standing there, in a deserted graveyard in a country he barely knows with Sebastian clutching at him while they both cry, he realises that he is taking care of Sebastian just as much as Sebastian is taking care of him.

They walk back to the hotel, hand in hand, with the intention of going back the next day. Sebastian will buy flowers and Kurt is already planning the letter he will write Victoria, thanking her for everything she did for Sebastian and promising that he will look after her son.  
They are both lying on the bed, Sebastian's head resting on Kurt's chest. Kurt's fingers are tracing patterns on Sebastian's back when Sebastian presses a kiss to the underside of Kurt's chin.

"I will always be there for you," he whispers.

And with a certainty that surprises him, Kurt believes it.


End file.
